Unbridled
by harleybanks
Summary: "I need to tell you guys something," Blossom said. Buttercup's expression softened, and she and Bubbles glided into the room and took a seat. "We might be in trouble…" Sequel to "30 Days." Needs beta.
1. Chapter 1 :: Fired

**Chapter 1**

"_AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!" _

A woman screamed bloody murder as a gigantic lavender tentacle, complete with slimy purple suckers, slammed into the hood of her car. The woman screamed again, fumbling for the surprisingly evasive door handle. The tentacle slithered off her car and slammed into it again, smashing the roof, avoiding the poor woman. She cried for help, frantically – desperately – banging on the window.

As the tentacle lifted once more, rearing for another blow, a baby blue blaze streaked passed the vehicle. The tentacle smashed through the car roof again, destroying the other seat, the steering wheel, the door, everything on the driver's side – except the woman.

The woman was now two blocks away, hovering inches above the ground. She looked around, confused as to how she narrowly avoided becoming an automobile sandwich, forgetting that she was, well, hovering inches above the ground. She suddenly felt her feet touch the pavement below. Then, she rolled her eyes and said gratefully,

"Thank you, Bubbles!"

She looked up above her at another woman, much younger, at least in her early twenties, with sunny blonde hair and soft sky blue eyes. The younger woman wiped a stray hair from her friendly round face and smiled warmly.

"You be careful, ma'am," Bubbles said. She pointed down the street, away from the raving tentacle monster. "Keep going that way, we'll take care of it!"

With that, Bubbles whizzed off in another baby blue streak. She skidded to a halt on the street, several yards in front of the strange-looking monster. The monster crawled towards her, smashing its tentacles into the sidewalk, into buildings, abandoned cars, whatever its slithering appendages could swipe. One tentacle rammed into the pavement, sending a thunderous crack in the blacktop towards Bubbles. Bubbles dove to the side, the crack stopping at a fire hydrant that exploded in a rain of water and metal. Above Bubbles, a light pink blaze zoomed through the sky and stopped midair above the monster.

Another young woman, the same age as Bubbles, with long strawberry blonde hair and unusual pink eyes, stared daggers at the monster. Actually, to be precise, she stared blazing hot laser beams at the monster that sliced into its thick lavender skin like red hot bullets. The monster reared its ugly head, a head with an enormous mouth that stretched from one tank-sized black eye to another. The monster resembled something like Pacman with tentacles – Pacman with more large, sharp white teeth than every shark on the planet combined. It opened its mouth wide, wailing its deep, booming cry of pain.

"Blossom!"

The redhead caught sight of Bubbles, her sister and fellow super heroine. Blossom eyed her purposefully, and then she eyed the monster, quickly, but carefully, formulating a highly strategic plan of attack.

"Bubbles!" Blossom shouted. "Take out as many tentacles as you can! I'll keep up with the head!"

Bubbles obeyed as usual, rocketing towards the monster and shooting off several laser beams of her own, smoldering tentacles left and right. The creature screamed again, its skin blistering from the burns. Blossom looked around fast, making sure not to keep her eyes away from the monster for too long. Exasperated, she called out for the third member of her crime-fighting party.

"Boomer!"

Blossom sent off a few more laser beams, and out of the corner of her eye, saw a dark blue blaze spiral towards her. It stopped near the monster, revealing a very flustered, somber-looking young man who bore a striking resemblance to Bubbles. He rubbed his neck and blew his shaggy blonde bangs out of his eyes. Blossom called out at him.

"Boomer, help Bubbles take care of the tentacles!"

Boomer nodded, and dove after Bubbles. Bubbles flitted around a particularly devious tentacle that dodged every laser beam she shot at it. Boomer zipped past a different tentacle and blasted it, the charred appendage curling away. Bubbles, changing tactics, jammed her fist into the irksome tentacle, the skin splitting from the force. It spewed inky black blood, and Bubbles whirled around to avoid it. In a split second, the tentacle wrapped around her leg and squeezed.

"_Aghhh!" _Bubbles shrieked.

Boomer gasped and turned to her. Before he could stop himself, he streaked towards her and chopped his hand into the air, snapping the tentacle clean off the monster. The monster wailed once more.

"Boomer!"

Boomer spun around and saw Blossom give him a very frustrated glance, as she punched a tentacle away from her.

"Don't rip its arms off!" she shouted. Boomer blushed, the oh-so familiar feeling of humiliation flushing to his face.

"Thanks," Bubbles whispered, smiling weakly before zooming away.

"Tentacles," Boomer muttered irritably. At least Bubbles was okay. Ignoring his cheeks flushing deeper, he whipped around the monster and took care of some other tentacles, careful not to rip anymore off.

Boomer grabbed at two of them and stretched them high above the monster's head. He gritted his teeth and in a tremendous maneuver, twisted the tentacles into a knot. The monster winced and tried to retract the knotted limbs into its body. Boomer laughed as it slammed the knot into its side several times. Then, to Boomer's horror, it swung the knot round and round, and smashed it into a building.

"Boomer!"

Blossom took a deep breath, and Boomer recoiled, expecting the worse. Then, Blossom blew a tremendous gust of fire at the monster's face. The monster roared at her, and Blossom promptly ignored it and glared at Boomer. She opened her mouth, but Boomer beat her to it.

"I know, I know! Get rid of the knot…"

Boomer dropped to the knotted tentacles, begrudgingly preparing to untie them. Bubbles, frowning, floated up next to Blossom.

"He's still learning," she whispered to her sister. Blossom rolled her eyes miserably.

"I know," she groaned. The two watched Boomer fumble with the knot, as the tentacles smacked and jabbed at him. Blossom sighed.

"Oh, if Buttercup was here..."

It had been a little over a year since Blossom or Bubbles had seen their sister Buttercup. It was incredibly unfortunate, too, since Blossom and Bubbles were back to crime-fighting in their hometown Townsville, U.S.A. Traditionally, Buttercup should've been with them, since she was, after all, the third original member of the renowned super heroine team the Powerpuff Girls.

But things had changed drastically over the past few years. As fate would have it, the girls went their separate ways when they graduated high school four years ago. Blossom went to Harvard law; Bubbles stayed in Townsville and went to the community college for zoology; and Buttercup went to New York to be a cop. For whatever reasons, they didn't see each other for almost three years, until March last year, when they were brought together for an unforgettable adventure. Forced with their sworn enemies the Rowdyruff Boys, the girls fought for a solid month against the pain-in-the-backside Princess, the seductress of sin Sedusa, the king of all evil Him, and in a way, themselves. In the end, they not only saved the world, but in a funny twist, bonded with the Boys.

Now, after Blossom and Bubbles graduated from their respective schools last spring, they were back at home doing what they did best: be the Powerpuff Girls. Unfortunately, due to impregnable circumstances, Buttercup could not join them, so the girls put up with a new member: Boomer, one of the Rowdyruff Boys, their former enemy and new friend. The girls had no choice, really; it's not like there were any other super people around, and they had to fill Buttercup's spot somehow. He lived in town, anyway, and with his brother Brick doing his own thing in Chicago, and his other brother Butch with Buttercup and their impregnable circumstances, he was basically the only candidate. He wasn't bad, really. He just needed some training. Or, he at least had to learn to fight like a hero, and break some of his bad habits like fighting dirty, underestimating adversaries, and low self-esteem (it's a complex thing, kind of like with bullies, as Blossom theorized.)

Blossom, though, was beginning to get anxious. He didn't improve as often as she expected him to, but then again, she always had high expectations of everyone. Bubbles, though, always the optimist, had ever-lasting faith in him, so Blossom stuck it out and hoped for the best.

This, unfortunately, wasn't happening at the moment.

"_Gahhh_!"

Boomer miraculously untied the tentacles, but upon freedom, the appendages wrapped around him and whammed him face-first into the cement. Bubbles whistled empathetically as Blossom held back every urge to groan. Then, another voice joined in.

"Really? I come home to this shit?"

Blossom and Bubbles whirled around, and to their very great surprise, saw just the person they were praying for. Floating lazily next to them was Buttercup, with her shoulder-length jet-black hair, electric green eyes, and permanent sardonic smirk. Blossom sighed in relief as Bubbles squealed and embraced her sister.

"You have no idea how happy I am to see you," Blossom said.

"What are you doing here? Welcome home! How are you?" Bubbles twittered happily. Buttercup's eyes suddenly narrowed, and she grinned.

"No time for that now, Bubbles," she said. She looked at Blossom. "What's the sitch, leader girl?"

Blossom, overwhelmed with fresh motivation, quickly surveyed the situation again, and it came to her right away. She commanded Bubbles and Buttercup, and the two obediently shot off in opposite directions, Blossom rearing back in her place. On the ground, Boomer stirred, and he groggily pulled himself out of the gigantic crater the monster forced him into. He turned around, and he caught sight of a lime green blaze coming his way. He instinctively dove back into the crater, the blaze whooshing over his head. He sat back up and looked behind him.

"You okay, dude?" Buttercup asked, not even glancing at him, instead staring at the monster.

"Buttercup?"

"Good," Buttercup growled. She finally looked at Boomer and smirked. "Word of advice: you can't take my place."

She rocketed toward the monster, and Boomer seethed.

Bubbles and Buttercup, aiming themselves at specific points on the monster, slammed their bodies full-force into the creature. The monster, grumbling angrily, rolled over onto its head, its mass of tentacles flailing haplessly in the air. Bubbles and Buttercup began to circle around the tentacles, faster and faster, blurring into a blue-green twister. Above, Blossom watched her plan unfold and at the exact moment, she dove into the center of the tornado. After only a few seconds, the twister disappeared and in its place, stood the monster, nauseatingly dizzy, and with all of its tentacles tied into one huge perfect knot.

"I did that," Boomer spat, as he watched gloomily from the sidelines.

Blossom, Bubbles, and Buttercup hovered proudly above the monster, and around them, citizens of Townsville exploded into cheers and applause.

"Thank you, Powerpuff Girls!"

"Welcome home, Powerpuff Girls!"

"Hurray for the Powerpuff Girls!"

"Wow," Bubbles giggled. "This is the first time in years we saved the day together."

"It never gets old," Buttercup laughed.

Blossom beamed, and she led the girls down to the ground, where they were greeted some more by their beloved fellow citizens. Boomer jumped up and slowly lurked on the side, watching the girls get all the praise and glory. From the crowd, he saw a tiny old man, wearing the same reverent uniform he had worn for years, scurry over to the girls.

"Welcome back, Powerpuff Girls!" The Mayor of Townsville bumbled. "It's been a long time since you girls saved our little city from those mean ole monsters."

"Well, the three of us," Bubbles corrected. "We've been fighting crime for weeks now, you know."

"Of course, of course, I know," The Mayor tittered. "Thanks, again, girls!"

The citizens of Townsville burst into another roaring applause, and the girls humbly stood and accepted it. Bubbles suddenly noticed the surly Boomer sulking near the monster, and she bit her lip. She nudged Blossom. Blossom glanced at him, and frowned guiltily.

"Thanks, everyone, but we really oughta get rid of the monster and head home," Blossom announced. The citizens thanked them again, and then went about their usual business. Some people headed back into smoking buildings, firemen happily extinguished leftover fires, men and women headed into their cars and started home or back to work. One guy ran past, checking his watch and muttering nervously to himself about a two-hour wait, a burger, and his very picky boss. Buttercup chuckled.

"Only in Townsville do you have a total disaster, and still try to make it back to work on time," she said.

"Hey, Boomer," Bubbles said as Boomer sulked over to them. Blossom held her hands behind her back, very business-like, mentally preparing yet another pep talk for him. She opened her mouth to speak, but Boomer beat her to it again.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he mumbled. "Need to work harder, stay focused, the whole shit and she-bang."

"Er… yeah," Blossom said unremarkably, somewhat losing her poise.

"Nice idea, by the way," Bubbles commented. "The whole knot thing? It kinda backfired at first, but if it weren't for you, we wouldn't have beat the monster."

"Yeah, okay," Boomer said gloomily.

"No, she's right!" Blossom reassured quickly. "Really, your action inspired me to tie _all_ the limbs together, thus immobilizing the monster. Great job!"

Boomer rolled his eyes, knowing very well that Blossom and Bubbles were just trying to be nice. Though, he _did_ come up with the tentacle-tying thing. Blossom did it better, though, of course. She always did. Perhaps Brick had a point saying…

"What's this?" Buttercup said suddenly. She looked at her sisters and then at Boomer. She grimaced. "White jumpsuits?"

"Oh, these?" Bubbles said, dusting off her own white jumpsuit.

Yep – Blossom, Bubbles, and even Boomer had matching polyester white and signature color uniforms. Around the chest, pelvis, arms and legs lay the signature color, with white around the thighs, waist, and upper arms. They were simple and stylish, but strong and withstanding, naturally designed by Professor Utonium, the girl's father and creator. When he heard the girl's were going to revive their crime-fighting days, he jumped at the idea to make new and improved uniforms for his girls. Of course, Boomer needed one, too, so Professor made sure to design them gender-neutral. The girls and Boomer were surprising quite satisfied with them.

"And you?" Buttercup said to Boomer, heavy emphasis on the word 'you.' "What the hell are you doing?"

"Well, we wanted to go back to fighting crime," Blossom explained.

"But we couldn't do it without a third member, so we invited Boomer in," Bubbles added, smiling at him. Buttercup raised an eyebrow.

"He's doing pretty well, actually," Blossom lied. Buttercup raised her other eyebrow.

"She's lying," Boomer said.

"I'm not," Blossom lied again. "He's still in training, but Boomer will make a nice addition to the… well…"

"Powerpuff _Girls_?" Buttercup said, bursting into laughter. Boomer looked down at his dark-blue feet, and felt his face turn a nasty shade of red.

"We're still trying to think of a name for the team," Blossom said. "It's not exactly Powerpuff Girls, since, well, he's not a Powerpuff, and he's definitely not a girl."

"Sure 'bout that?" Buttercup asked.

"Hey, now…" Bubbles said soothingly, as Boomer stepped forward defensively. Bubbles put a hand on his chest, and he jumped back strangely. Buttercup folded her arms across her chest and silently noted this exchange in her head.

"Well, next time the hotline goes off, let me know," she said. "I don't want to miss another piece of work like this."

"Work?" Blossom croaked suddenly. Her eyes widened. "Ohmigod. Work! I'm late. ImlateImlateImlate. I'm late again!"

Blossom leapt in the air and started off towards home. After a few yards, she suddenly remembered and spun around.

"Can you guys take care of the monster? I gotta go! I'm late!"

Without a reply, she turned back around and headed back home at lightning speed.

"What happened?" Buttercup asked, baffled.

"She's late for work," Bubbles sighed dejectedly. "Again. Third time this week…"

***

Blossom staggered through the lobby of Jones and Jones, a law firm located just south of Citysville. Her classy maroon heels clicked on the floor with every quick step, as she tried to pull her hair back into a neat bun. She held her briefcase and coffee thermos in each hand, and tried to remember exactly what was supposed to happen today at work.

She was very lucky to be in her position – only twenty-two, fresh out of college with just a _bachelor's degree_, barely any true law practice, and she was already a high-paid attorney at law. Because of this, she was already treading very deep waters, and some co-workers never failed to remind her. But, because of juggling a life of crime-fighting and a life of law-defending (there is a difference, you see), those already deep waters were choppy, dark, and infested with sharks. Again, Blossom was very lucky to have what she had, so being late for the third time this week, eighth time this month, and twenty-seventh time this year (which only started this past June), her tardiness was most likely working against her luck.

Skipping the usual trip up the elevator, Blossom hoofed it to the stairs and, making quite sure nobody would see her, zoomed up the fourteen flights of stairs to her office. It was faster, anyway, and according to her watch she was already two hours late. Each second was definitely very precious. She finally made it upstairs, hair only slightly windswept and her coffee only lukewarm. Blossom looked around, hoping nobody was around, and beelined for her office. Maybe if she came out quietly to socialize in a few minutes, nobody would ever know she was late.

Blossom opened the door and then stopped so suddenly, her coffee flopped down her hand and dripped onto the stark white carpeting. At her desk, in her comfy rolling chair was the very short, very bespectacled, and very bitter Mr. Blake.

"Good morning, Blossom," Mr. Blake uttered. Mr. Blake never said anything – he _uttered_, begrudgingly throwing his words at you like a miser begrudgingly tosses a check at a charity after his assets are threatened.

"Good morning, Mr. Blake," Blossom said cheerfully. "Sorry, you frightened me, so I'll, uh, pay for the carpet-cleaning in here. You can take it out of my check."

"Actually," Mr. Blake began to utter, checking his watch. "I think the correct greeting was 'Good Afternoon, Blossom.' So, in return, I'd have expected a 'Good Afternoon, Mr. Blake,' shortly followed by weak excuse as to why you are late today."

"Oh," Blossom said weakly. The coffee continued to drip down her hand, and for a moment, Blossom considered the poetic idea that her coffee represented the spilled efforts of her overzealous pride, slowly, futilely, dripping down her hands and soiling the gleaming white carpet of her reputation. This happened when Blossom was at her most stressed.

"_Oh?_" Mr. Blake repeated, adding in several unnecessary extra syllables. Blossom snapped out of it and grinned.

"My apologies, Mr. Blake," she began quietly. "Good Afternoon, Mr. Blake. I apologize for being late today. I was, um, caught up in unavoidable business at home."

"Thank you," Mr. Blake uttered unthankfully. "And, you seem to have outdone yourself. Bravo! Your excuse was weaker than I expected."

Blossom reconsidered the poetic idea – her pride really was dripping down her hands, but instead of soiling her reputation, it was soiling _everything_.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Blake," Blossom said. "If there's anything I can do…"

"I'm sorry, too, Blossom," Mr. Blake said, thoroughly unapologetic. "I'm sorry that it has to come to this."

Her pride wasn't dripping anymore.; it downright spilled all over everything. Blossom's mouth hung.

"No…"

"Yes, I'm sorry, but we're going to have to, well, let you go."

Blossom dropped her coffee, literally spilling her pride coffee all over the floor.

"No, please. I'll do anything."

"I'm sorry, Blossom," Mr. Blake said again, more unapologetically, if that was possible. "But you've proven to be more of a hindrance than an asset to the firm. Unreliable, perpetual tardiness, little experience. We took a very large chance hiring you, Miss Utonium."

"I know."

"You were very promising," Mr. Blake said almost regretfully, although Blossom figured it was more because he just complimented her. "Your references were superb, and your test scores were top-level. But for whatever reason, you are neither superb nor top-level. This should unsurprisingly make me question your academic history."

"I can explain," Blossom defended unconvincingly. She really could defend herself, even in a court of law… then the thought made her stomach turn over.

"I assure you, I don't want to hear it," Mr. Blake said, the most honest thing he said all morning. "You've had since June – almost four months – to explain. To prove your worth. And it seems you couldn't. So, I'm sorry, you're fired."

Blossom had had enough.

"Mr. Blake," she began, with more fervency than she probably needed. "If you must know why I am constantly late, why you might consider me unreliable, or why I am anything but inexperienced in the realm of law, then I will tell you. Mr. Blake… I'm a super hero."

Mr. Blake stared at her through his enormous, circle-framed glasses. If he had a sense of humor, he may have laughed right now. But he didn't. In fact, he didn't say anything, which made Blossom terribly uncomfortable. After a long silence, Blossom cleared her throat and continued.

"I am Blossom Utonium of the Powerpuff Girls. Townsville? I did live here for a very short period when I was little. But, um, I'm a super hero. I fight crime, and have since I was born. Or created, I guess. But I digress. It's a very troublesome and tiring job, but I do it because someone has to protect the city. And I love it. It's my job, it's my passion, as much as law, really. They're almost one and the same, anyway. But it's quite taxing, juggling a nine to five job, seemingly endless crime-fighting, and of course, a normal life. But if you work with me, and I with my team, I _can_ be an asset to the firm. To make up for time, I could work weekends, maybe bring work home, I can—"

"Enough."

Blossom tightened her grip on her briefcase. She felt the metal handle crunch like tinfoil beneath her fingers. Mr. Blake sighed and stood up, his head barely brushing the top of the chair. Hands behind his back, he slowly walked around her desk and headed towards the door. He stopped in front of her.

"I'm sorry, Miss Utonium," he uttered one last time. "But frankly, I don't give a damn. If you were really a super heroine, perhaps you would actually find the time to be both super and a heroine, especially at the workplace."

Blossom stared at him, wide-eyed, a figurative deer struck dumb by the headlights of failure. Mr. Blake looked up at her, a hint of a smile emerging on his face. He took a step towards the door, making sure to step around her and the puddle of coffee.

"Oh, and you wanted something to do?"

Blossom's eyes flickered.

"Clean yourself up."


	2. Chapter 2 :: Homecoming

**Chapter 2**

Blossom sighed, as she sat on the curb outside the chateau next to her box of things that were in what was once her office. What was she going to tell her family? The Professor? Bubbles? How was she going to tell them she was _fired_? And then what? Should she look for another job? Should she beg for her old one? There was no way the firm or Mr. Blake would hire her back. Should she apply for unemployment? Does she have to actually go to an unemployment office? Blossom shuddered.

What now?

Utterly defeated, Blossom stood up and dragged her box to the front door, dreading the moment she walked in. Her hand hovered over the doorknob. If she walked in now, everyone would ask why she was home so early. If she walked in now, she would break into another mass of tears. If she walked in now, she would have to explain her failure as a human being. Blossom immediately lifted her box and hurried over to the back door. Nobody would notice if she went through the kitchen and rushed upstairs to die alone and jobless in the solitude of her own room.

Blossom quietly entered the kitchen, praying the door wouldn't squeak on her now.

"Blossom!"

Blossom jumped and stumbled into the room to see Buttercup setting out some dishes on the table. Blossom smiled and straightened up, trying her best to be happy to see her sister.

"Hi, Buttercup," she croaked.

"You're home early," Buttercup said. She turned back to the counter, kicking a chair out on the way. "Have some coffee."

Blossom rolled her eyes, wondering when the punch line to her life was coming, and drudged over to the table. She half-heartedly dropped her box of stuff on the counter nearby and sat in the chair. Buttercup placed a cup steaming with coffee in front of Blossom. Blossom frowned to herself and thanked her sister.

"Hey, Blossom!"

Bubbles, brushing her wet blond hair, stepped into the room, closely followed by a miserable-looking Boomer. They joined the table, and Buttercup handed them each their own steaming mugs.

"I made ya green tea," Buttercup said to Bubbles, as she fixed her own drink. "You still hate coffee, right?"

"Yep," Bubbles giggled. "Thanks."

"Thanks," Boomer muttered. He looked moodily at Blossom. "What are you doing here?"

"I think the better question," Buttercup started, plopping in a chair and taking a big gulp. "—is what the hell are _you_ still doing here, Boomer? And what the hell was that earlier?"

"What was what?" Boomer asked.

"That bullshit fighting with the octopus monster earlier," Buttercup laughed. "Shit, I could've taken that out in minutes."

"That was not bullshit fighting!" Boomer said defensively, rubbing the back of his neck. "I was just, I don't know, rusty."

"Rusty, my ass," Buttercup said.

"Hey, now," Bubbles piped up. "The monster's learned some new stuff since the last time you fought him."

"Don't defend him!" Buttercup cried. "Not that he can defend himself, anyway. Or the city, for that matter…"

"I can defend myself just fine!" Boomer said.

Blossom smiled to herself, happy that the subject was not about her or her joblessness. She took a long sip of coffee and sighed, relieved. Buttercup and Boomer continued to squabble, Bubbles jumping in every now and then to mediate. Home… Blossom sighed as she began to find peace in Buttercup's catty, foul-mouthed retorts against Bubbles soft, light-hearted twitters. After a moment, Bubbles turned to Blossom and said,

"Buttercup's got an announcement. She was waiting 'til you came home to tell everyone."

"Really?" Blossom said brightly. She and Bubbles turned to Buttercup.

"Yeah! I do, actually," Buttercup said, suddenly ignoring Boomer. Boomer snorted and sat back in his chair, arms folded tight across his chest. Buttercup grinned.

"I'm moving back home."

Bubbles and Blossom gasped. Boomer sniffled loudly and looked out the window. Bubbles squealed with delight.

"Ohh! Where? Does that mean Bridie's here, too?"

"Yep," Buttercup nodded. "Butch and Bridie are both here."

Bubbles squealed again, and with good reason. After almost two years of waiting, Bubbles and the rest of the family were finally going to see Butch and Buttercup's bouncing baby girl, Bridle, nicknamed "Bridie." The families had only seen one or two pictures, Butch and Buttercup always too busy to show off the new baby, even on camera. Buttercup continued.

"I don't where we're living yet, but—"

"But what about your job?" Blossom demanded, her poise completely faltering. "What about your apartment? Your life? New York? The baby?!" Her voice rose with each question.

Buttercup's eyebrow rose.

"I quit. We moved out. It's fine. It sucks. And she's fine. What's _your _problem?"

Blossom bit her lip. Someone asked. Someone finally wants to know. Now Blossom has to admit being failure at life…

"I don't know, I'm just… concerned?" Blossom grimaced.

"Well, Blossom's got a point," Bubbles said, quickly covering for Blossom's outburst. "What brings you back home?"

"A lot," Buttercup said, gripping her mug. She took a sip and explained. "My job sucked, man. The precinct went nuts while I was on maternity, and then they started dropping all kinds of stupid rules and shit. 'No more super powers.' 'No more vacation time, the force suffered enough time without you.' 'You can't beat criminals to fucking pulp, Ms. Utonium.'"

"You _do _know better, Buttercup," Bubbles chided.

"That's beside the point," Buttercup grinned. "I don't know. New York lost its glamour. And Bridie's, well, growing up so fast, we figured she should grow up in a better environment."

"That's fantastic!" Bubbles said. "No better place to grow up than Townsville."

"No place more _understanding_," Buttercup corrected.

"How do you mean?" Bubbles asked.

"Ehh," Buttercup said, looking off distractedly. "You'll see."

"So where are they?" Boomer asked suddenly. Buttercup blinked.

"Shopping. I think," she replied.

"And how'd you guys get the name 'Bridle,' anyway? Kinda weird…" Boomer added. Buttercup snorted.

"Because the kid needs one," she replied. "And it's better than 'Rein' or somethin.' It fits. You'll see."

"But what about your job?" Blossom repeated, trying to sound more concerned than hysterical. "A house? You need to house and support your family somehow…"

"Blossom, I'm home," Buttercup said, grinning. "I'm me, and it's Townsville. Beat up a few monsters, and Townsville will give me a penthouse and cater to my every need and whim, free of charge."

"So?"

"So, I don't need a job here," Buttercup replied. "We're just fine. My only problem is, um, where I'm staying at the moment."

"And that is?"

"Well," Buttercup's voice drifted off again. She glanced at the doorway. "Maybe the Professor could tell me where I'll be staying until we find our own place. Hi, Professor!"

Buttercup hopped out of her chair and rushed to the doorway, where, right on cue, Professor Utonium entered the kitchen. He smiled and brushed off his ancient bleached-white lab coat.

"I thought I heard you cursing, Buttercup," he said. He and Buttercup embraced, and Buttercup ruffled his salt-n-pepper-colored hair. He chuckled and readjusted his square-shaped glasses. Professor did a double-take at Blossom.

"Why, hello, Blossom! You're home early," he said. He pulled out his pipe and automatically placed it in his mouth. Blossom groaned and dropped her head into her arms.

"What's wrong, Blossom?" Professor asked. Blossom shrugged and said nothing. Professor looked at her, worried.

"Um, Professor?" Bubbles turned in her seat. "Buttercup wants to know where she'll be staying?"

"Oh, so you told them?" Professor said to Buttercup, readily changing the subject. He still eyed Blossom occasionally.

"Yeah, I did. Not everything, but, you know," Buttercup said.

"Ah, well, you, Butch and Bridie will be staying in the guest room upstairs, of course," Professor told her.

"Really?" Bubbles squealed again. "Ohh! This is so exciting! Do you need help moving stuff in, Buttercup? Boxes, clothes, the crib?"

"Thanks, but we already moved our stuff in earlier while you guys were fighting," Buttercup chuckled. "I just wanted Professor to say it. No crib, though, by the way."

"No crib?" Bubbles questioned.

"Well, you see—"

Just then, they heard a crash near the front of the house, and in a split-second, a brilliant sea-green light flashed through the kitchen. Blossom, Bubbles, and Boomer jumped in their seats, as Buttercup held her pose, smiling weakly. Professor looked bemusedly at Buttercup as the light squeaked excitedly.

"—"

"Bridie!" Buttercup barked.

The light stopped flashing and floating inches above their heads was a little girl, no older than three or four, with big sea-green eyes and shoulder-length jet-black hair. Despite a few physical differences, she was the spitting image of a young Buttercup. Blossom, Bubbles, and Boomer stared at her awestruck.

"Bridie, say hello to Aunt Blossom, Aunt Bubbles, and Uncle Boomer," Buttercup commanded. Bridie looked down at the table below and smiled sheepishly. She hopped to the ground and looked up at them bashfully.

"Hi," she mumbled.

"Good girl," Buttercup said. Bridie looked at Buttercup.

"Mommy, daddy got me some ice cream, and some cookies, and I got new clothes…"

"Where _is_ daddy?" Buttercup asked.

"Right behind you."

In the doorway behind Buttercup and the Professor was Butch, carrying a ridiculous amount of bags and a look of pure exasperation. He looked the same since the last time everyone else saw him, though significantly less buff and with significantly less hair. He dropped the bags on the floor and exhaled. Buttercup smiled at him sweetly.

"Have fun?"

"Tons," Butch replied dryly. He nodded at the Professor, who nodded politely back. Butch stepped into the kitchen.

"Butch!" Boomer exclaimed. He stood up and he and Butch embraced. Boomer tentatively stared at Butch's hair, or lack thereof, at least.

"What happened to your hair?"

"Um, I had a kid," Butch ran a hand through his short, spiky hair. "Hair is out of the question when you've got a brat ripping your hair out all the time."

"I'm not a brat!" Bridie yelled. Butch raised a brow and smirked.

"Oh yes, you are."

"Brick's gonna kill you," Boomer warned him.

"Brick's a shithead. Where the hell is he?" Butch asked.

"Chicago. I can call him up," Boomer said.

"Well what are you waiting for, man?" Butch turned to Bubbles and Blossom and waved. "Hi! How the hell are ya?"

"Hey, Butch," Bubbles said warmly. Blossom nodded and went back to hiding into her arms. Butch eyed her, and then looked at Buttercup. Buttercup shook her head quickly, mouthing the word "later." Butch shrugged and took a seat next to Boomer.

"So, what's this?" Bubbles asked, looking at Bridie. "Hi, Bridie, how are you?"

"I'm fine," Bridie replied, pulling at her purple long-sleeve.

"Remember when I said she was growing up fast?" Buttercup asked.

"Yeah, but I didn't think you meant really, really…" Bubbles giggled. "Bridie, you're so pretty!"

Bridie blushed. She floated over to Butch and hid behind him. Butch glanced at her, smirking.

"Ain't she?" Butch said. "She looks like her mom."

Buttercup's cheeks flushed and she looked at the Professor. She grinned expectantly. Professor Utonium rolled his eyes.

"Bridie is aging too fast," the Professor said simply. "After some recent blood tests, I discovered that some of Bridie's body functions are running, quite literally, super fast, making her grow about three times as fast as a normal child. I figure that the super-human traits of both Butch and Buttercup combined together, along with, of course, Bridie's inherited super-human traits, created a super-super-super-human set of genetic make-up. This unique set of genes includes both benefits and deficits, such as an overactive metabolism, hypertension, hypoglycemia—"

"Ahem," Buttercup interrupted. Professor Utonium laughed.

"Sorry," he apologized. "But yes, once again, Bridie is aging too fast. This would also be why she was premature—"

"You _did_ say she was premature," Bubbles reminded Buttercup. Buttercup nodded.

"I was only pregnant for three months," she said.

"Thankfully," Butch added. Buttercup threw him a nasty look. Butch and Boomer snickered.

"Doctor couldn't believe I was only three months along and full of full-grown baby. So he had to cut her out of me when I had her, 'cause he was afraid of her shooting out of me or something," Buttercup laughed.

"Gross," Boomer said. "TMI."

"You have no idea," Butch groaned.

"It was crazy, though, man," Buttercup continued. "Seriously, after like, a month she was walking. After two months she's talking. After five months, she's potty-trained. After a year, she's fucking doing basic math and reciting Dora the Explorer episodes, _including _the Spanish."

"So many clothes…" Butch shuddered.

"New York couldn't handle her, could she?" Bubbles laughed.

"She's a handful," Buttercup said matter-of-factly, sneaking over to Butch. He watched her as she peeked behind him. She leaned over him, and snatched up a tiny hand. Bridie chirped and Buttercup swung her around and onto her back. Bridie giggled.

"So that's why you're in Townsville," Boomer said.

"Yeah," Buttercup said, tossing Bridie up in the air, where the little girl floated gleefully. "And to get a cure."

"For the aging?" Bubbles asked.

"Why would you wanna do that?" Boomer asked, surprised. "She'll be out of your hair before you know it."

Bridie hovered above Butch's head, slowly leaning forward, her forefinger ready to poke the back of his neck. Butch didn't move, but looked above him.

"Um, I'd rather not have my daughter be older than me in eleven years, thanks," Buttercup said. Boomer thought about that a second, then nodded. In eleven years, sure enough, Bridie would be 33 – a year older than Butch and Buttercup would be. Creepy.

"And I happen to have the antidote," Professor announced.

"So it _is_ done, then?" Buttercup said.

"Well, I've only been working on it since Bridie was born," Professor laughed. "It's cooling off right now, though, so we'll – er – _administer the medicine_ tomorrow morning."

"Give her the shot," Butch said. He suddenly grabbed Bridie's hand and brought her down on his shoulders, Bridie roaring with laughter. "She's a big girl, she can handle shots, right?"

"Right," Bridie agreed. She looked at the Professor and smiled.

"Great!" The Professor tucked his pipe into his breast pocket, pausing a moment to realize he never even smoked it. "Then I'll see you in the morning. Right now, I have some other work to do. It's wonderful to have you home again, Buttercup."

"I'm glad to _be_ home again," Buttercup said. "Later, Professor."

The others mumbled a goodbye to the Professor. Bridie looked over and said cheerfully,

"Bye, Grandpa!"

The Professor stopped in mid-step. He stared at Bridie, taken aback. Then, he placed a hand on his heart and sighed. He chuckled.

"I'm a grandfather."

With that, he walked dreamily out the doorway and back to his lab.

"Aw, shit!" Butch exclaimed. He looked at Buttercup. "I forgot the toilet paper."

"Really?" Buttercup jeered. "Out of all that shit you bought?"

"Hey, let's go to the store," Boomer said suddenly, scooting his chair back. Butch stood up, still holding Bridie in his arms.

"Daddy, can I come with?" Bridie asked.

"No!" Butch groaned. "Stay with mom."

"Butch?" Buttercup leaned against the wall and stared at him. Butch looked at her, aghast.

"What?!"

Buttercup didn't speak, but raised her eyebrows and looked at Blossom, who was still hiding in her arms. She looked back at Butch. Butch glanced at her, then Blossom, then back again. He shrugged. He glanced at Blossom again, then back at Buttercup. Buttercup made an exasperated face. Then, Butch got it.

"Aw, baby, she's _killing_ me!"

"Bridie, you can go with dad," Buttercup said, smiling. Bridie cheered as Boomer looked at them both, bewildered.

"What's going on?" he asked slowly. Butch, pulling Bridie by the hand through the air, stomped over to Boomer.

"Nothing. Let's go."

Butch and Bridie headed out, Boomer close behind, before suddenly, he stopped. He looked at Bubbles.

"Need anything from the store?" he asked.

"No, I'm good," Bubbles replied. "Thanks, Boomer."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. See you later."

Boomer lingered for a moment, and then hurried out. Buttercup, having watched the interaction, stared strangely, knowingly, at the doorway. Then she shook her head and slid over in the seat next to Blossom. Buttercup looked at Bubbles, and the two waited for the front door to shut before speaking.

"What's wrong, Blossom?" Bubbles said slowly. Blossom lifted up her head, her pink eyes rosier than usual.

"I was fired."

"No way!"

"Oh, no!"

Buttercup and Bubbles gasped simultaneously. Then, Blossom sobbed tremendously, burying her face back into her hands. Buttercup cursed under her breath, as Bubbles scooted closer. She placed a hand on Blossom's arm.

"You were late again, weren't you?"

"Yes," Blossom admitted. "I heard later my client decided to represent himself at the last minute. He was tired of waiting for me. They were all tired of waiting for me."

"What's keeping you?" Buttercup asked.

"Crime-fighting!" Blossom cried. "Everyone expects me to juggle a top-notch career and the safety of a big city at the same time, as well as, you know, a _life._ I couldn't do it. All the paperwork, all the bad guys, all the clients, all the monsters—"

"Sounds like law to me," Buttercup remarked.

"I couldn't do it. I couldn't keep up with it. I couldn't defend the city and defend my clients at the same time. I failed. I'm a failure!" Blossom wept, her shoulders trembling, tears rolling down her face.

"You're not a failure!" Bubbles reassured her.

"Anything but," Buttercup added.

"B-b-but, I couldn't do it! I c-c-couldn't—" Sob. "I couldn't do it."

"Hey, it's not the end of the world!" Buttercup said. "I don't have a job, either."

"Me neither," Bubbles agreed.

"No! We're _all_ failures!" Blossom bawled.

"We're not failures!" Buttercup yelled. "We're fucking awesome."

"Fucking awesome, Blossom," Bubbles repeated. Blossom looked at Bubbles, surprised. Bubbles smiled coyly, and Buttercup stifled a laugh.

"Bubbles, you cussed," Blossom said.

"And the world didn't end, did it?" Bubbles asked.

"No," Blossom sniffled.

"So?"

"So what?"

"So, it isn't the end of the world, is it?" Buttercup asked.

"Nope," Bubbles agreed. "Right, Blossom?"

Blossom sat a moment, wiping the snot, spit, and tears from below her nose. She sniffled again, and blinked away a few more tears. She sighed shakily, and nodded.

"Right."

"Tell you what," Buttercup started. "Take this as a chance to like, I don't, recuperate. I mean, that's kinda what I'm doing right now. That's what me and Butch are doing right now. Recuperating."

"From what?" Blossom asked.

"Things aren't all cute little kids and forgotten toilet paper, Blossom," Buttercup said. Blossom pondered this a moment. Then, she smiled.

"Thanks, guys," she said. "I think I'm gonna lay down anyway, though. I really just want to sleep."

"Okay," Bubbles said, standing up. She grabbed Blossom's arm and she and Buttercup stood up, too. Bubbles led her sister out of the kitchen, Buttercup following and carrying Blossom's box.

"Oh, Bubbles," Buttercup said suddenly. "What's up with you and Boomer?"

"Wha-what do you mean?" Bubbles asked, flustered. She and Blossom stopped, both looking at Buttercup. Buttercup eyed Bubbles knowingly.

"You can't fool me, girl, I know sexual tension when I see it. Trust me – I live it."

"There's nothing going on, really," Bubbles assured, pulling Blossom ahead.

"That's what you say," Buttercup said. "But that boy's got more hots for you than a drunken frat boy with a stripper."


	3. Chapter 3 :: Just Business

**Chapter 3**

_Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!_

Blossom rolled over in her bed and smashed her hand on the alarm clock. She opened her eyes slightly to see the time: 6:45. It was morning. Suddenly, Blossom had the sinking thought that her alarm was still set for work. She made a mental note to unset it later. She didn't have the heart to right now.

Blossom sat up and rubbed the crust from her eyes. She squinted at the morning glow shining through one of the three circular windows, casting its dazzling gold light on the foot of her bed. Blossom wondered how long she had been asleep… what, 14, 15 hours? She was in bed before 4 PM. Blossom shrugged. Normally she would've hated to sleep in, but after yesterday's events, she probably needed it. She considered just laying back down, settling back into whatever pleasant dreams she was having earlier. Instead, she pushed off her classic light pink covers and stepped into her fluffy red slippers.

The old bedroom looked relatively the same since the girls' childhood. The walls and carpet were still the same shades of pink, the large dresser in the southeast corner, and the vanity next to Blossom's bed. The bookshelf and desk stood in the southwest corner, next to a large pile of stuffed animals that, to the day, Bubbles still rearranged every night. Before, when Blossom originally moved back home, she had the room all to herself. So, she took the liberty of pushing her old twin bed next to Buttercup's, making a nice queen-size bed in the northwest corner of the room. Bubbles, though, moved in a few months later, and took her old spot in the northeast corner, same blue sheets covering her mattress. Since then, the girls happily shared their room like old times, though Bubbles left out Buttercup's punching bag, since the room just wasn't the same without Buttercup's presence.

Blossom sat at the vanity and carefully brushed her hair. It was a little strange, since she recently cut off a significant portion of her hair to donate to charity. Her once calf-length red hair now barely swept past her shoulder blades, and Blossom found herself mildly surprised with every brushstroke ending earlier than usual. She sighed. Her career ended earlier than usual, too. With that thought, Blossom angrily tossed the brush back on the bureau and stood up. She slipped on her ruby red robe – a silky piece she bought in China a few years back – and made her way downstairs to the kitchen.

"No! No! No!"

"Don't fucking crash into me!"

"I'm not, daddy!"

Blossom stopped at the top of the stairs and curiously peered over the railing. In the living room below, Butch, Buttercup, and Bridie sat around the big screen television, all still in their pajamas and all furiously playing a racing game on the game system. Blossom almost forgot they were here. Quietly, she glided down the stairs and into the kitchen, not really interested in speaking to any of them at the moment.

"Morning, Blossom."

Blossom stopped mid-float in the doorway. The Professor, in his fuzzy white robe, sat at the table sipping some coffee, watching the action in the other room. Blossom smiled weakly, thwarted again. She was beginning to think she would never get a moment to be depressed alone.

"Cute, isn't it?" The Professor said, tipping his mug towards the living room. Blossom turned around to watch. Butch was leaning forward on one end of the couch, humorously sticking his tongue out, deep in concentration. Buttercup, on the other end, sat on the back, her feet planted on the seat. Bridie sat in the middle, her tiny head barely peeking over the back. Buttercup huffed.

"Butch, I swear to God, if you crash into me again, I'm killing you."

"What's it matter? Bridie's winning," Butch spat. Bridie giggled, her head bouncing up and down. Butch glanced at her.

"Oh, no, you don't!" he seethed. He leaned forward, and Blossom saw his car on the screen pass ahead of another one. Butch laughed. "Take that!"

Bridie bounced up, and made a funny face at her dad. She rolled in her lips and made a strange concentrated face at Butch's hands. Suddenly—

"Hey!" Butch stopped and glared at Bridie. His car on the screen crashed into a nearby wall. "You sneaky little cheat!"

"What'd she do?" Buttercup asked, laughing, not taking her eyes off the screen.

"Nothing!" Bridie squealed.

"She cheated! She fucking held down the A button!" Butch cried.

"I did not!" Bridie giggled.

"I didn't see her," Buttercup laughed.

"She can move shit with her head, remember?!" Butch yelled.

"I know," Buttercup said. Then she nudged Bridie and whispered, "Good job."

"What are they talking about?" Blossom asked the Professor.

"Remember when we thought Buttercup had telekinesis?" he asked.

Blossom couldn't forget. Everyone discovered Buttercup had telekinesis during the Him fiasco, when Him made the Powerpuffs and the Rowdyruffs believe they had lost their powers. Buttercup, acting on a lucky impulse, miraculously attacked Him, helping the heroes realize they had not lost their powers after all. And after all this time, Buttercup finally discovered her special power.

Or did she?

"Buttercup has telekinesis, right?" Blossom asked slowly.

"No, unfortunately," the Professor shook his head. But strangely, he was smiling. "Did you know that when a mother is pregnant, her unborn child is attuned to the mother's feelings? It's biology."

"Well, of course," Blossom said. "But… then what _did_ happen a year ago?"

"Bridie and Buttercup have a very special bond," Professor explained. "It's only a theory, but I wouldn't be surprised if Bridie had to give Buttercup some help when she needed it the most. She could only express herself through her mother anyways."

Blossom watched Bridie's little head bob up and down, and took a moment to let this sink in. Butch and Buttercup probably discovered this after Bridie was born, and probably told the Professor. What a shame that Buttercup _still_ didn't have a special power; it must've bummed her out. Maybe her power was accidentally using her unborn baby's powers as a fight or flight technique? Blossom chuckled to herself. Regardless, Blossom suddenly felt a whole new appreciation for her niece.

Butch slammed down his controller. He folded his arms across his chest and glared at Buttercup and Bridie.

"Fuck this shit, I quit."

"Okay," Buttercup said with a shrug. She glimpsed at Bridie. "Just me and you, kid."

Bridie bounced up again, and Blossom caught a sly smirk on her face. Bridie made the same concentrated look at Buttercup's controller. Then—

"No! You brat!"

Bridie shrieked with laughter, and her car zoomed past the checkmark on her screen. The words came up in large gold letters "PLAYER 2 WINS!", little checkered flags waving on the sides. Buttercup snarled, as Butch shrugged his shoulders.

"I didn't see her," he said, his voice thick with sarcasm. Buttercup sneered as Bridie raised her hands in the air and yelled.

"I win! I win!"

"No, you don't!" Buttercup cried, and dove at her. Bridie cried out as Buttercup started tickling her, muttering playful threats. Butch grinned and joined in, and Bridie giggled and snorted "Stop it! Stop!"

It was sickeningly cute.

Blossom felt a heaviness in her stomach. She narrowed her eyes at Buttercup, watching her; watching her smile, watching her laugh, watching her… be happy. Then, Blossom immediately felt guilty. How dare she be envious of her sister's happiness? If anyone deserved it, anyway, it was Buttercup. She was always somewhat bitter, even without bringing up some mistakes from her past. Blossom shook away her thoughts and floated over to the counter to pour herself some coffee.

"Where's Bubbles?" Blossom asked the Professor, pulling a mug from the cabinet. She set it down and carefully began to pour the coffee.

"Oh, she and Boomer are out fighting some monster downtown," Professor answered.

Blossom winced and spilled some coffee on her hand. She gasped and quickly placed the pot on the counter, almost dropping it. Ignoring her pain she looked at the Professor.

"What?! And they didn't wake me?! Oh, no!" Blossom started off out the back door. The Professor stood up and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Blossom, they're taking care of it."

"No!" Blossom cried out, whirling around. "They need my help. They need someone to lead them. Boomer still needs work, and Bubbles sometimes forget tactics and strategy and—"

"Blossom." The Professor squeezed his hand on her shoulder. "They're fine. Sit down and relax."

Blossom drooped to the ground and sank into a nearby chair. Professor hurried over to the counter and finished pouring her coffee. Blossom stared out the window anxiously.

"Why didn't they wake me?" she asked.

The Professor brought her glass over and set it in front of her. He went back and started wiping up the spilt coffee.

"They figured they oughta let you sleep. You need the rest," he said. He looked over his shoulder, lowering his glasses. Blossom frowned.

"They told you, didn't they?" she asked quietly.

"Of course, they did," Professor said. He tossed the dirty paper towels in the garbage disposal and went back to his seat. He smiled at Blossom. "Why wouldn't they tell me?"

"Because I'd rather it not get around that I'm a failure," Blossom said, unconsciously stirring sugar into her coffee. The Professor chuckled.

"For someone so intelligent and mature, you're being awfully silly," he said. "You know you'll bounce back. Apply to another firm, I'm sure someone else will hire you."

"No, they won't," Blossom disagreed. "My reputation is ruined."

"Is it?"

"Yes," Blossom folded her arms on the table. "Every firm in Townsville will know how unreliable, absent-minded, and terrible I am."

"Because of a few missed meetings and trials?"

"Yes."

"Nobody will consider the thousands of times you saved their lives from impending doom?"

Blossom stared at him. She took a long gulp of coffee. She didn't say a word. The Professor sighed and patted her shoulder.

"It'll all work out. And if it doesn't, maybe law wasn't your calling."

"I'm a superhero," Blossom said. "How is law _not_ my calling?"

The Professor didn't reply, instead taking a sip. He pulled out his pipe from his robe pocket and placed it in his mouth. Just then, Buttercup walk in, followed by Butch and Bridie.

"Morning, Blossom!" Buttercup greeted, bee-lining for the refrigerator. Butch leaned against the wall, watching her.

"Aunt Blossom!" Bridie piped. She zipped over to the counter and grabbed a small bundle of pink posies. She dashed to Blossom and handed them to her. "I picked these for you this morning. They're a little wet 'cause of the dew, but I hope you like them!"

Blossom's eyes softened. She smiled, and graciously took the bouquet. The tiny flowers tickled her fingers, the dew, sure enough, moistening her palm. She looked at Bridie.

"Thank you, sweetie," she said. Bridie smiled and looked at the Professor.

"How're you feeling, Bridie?" he asked.

"I'm fine," Bridie replied, bouncing up and down on her toes.

"How's your shot?"

"Good."

"Bridie had her shot this morning," The Professor told Blossom, catching her inquiring gaze. "That's why everyone's up so early."

"It didn't hurt!" Bridie announced. She pulled up her sleeve to show a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles bandage. "See? And grandpa gave me a Ninja Turtle band-aid."

"Where did grandpa get Ninja Turtle band-aids?" Butch asked suddenly. Buttercup stood up and slammed the fridge shut. She took a bite out of a bright green apple.

"Grandpa's awesome like that," she answered as she chewed.

"In a little bit, I'll need to take another blood sample," the Professor said, humbly ignoring Buttercup's remark. "I'll meet you in the lab in a half hour or so."

"Sure," Buttercup said. She looked at Bridie. "Ready for that?"

"Yep!"

"Great!" The Professor stood up and placed his mug in the sink. He headed out of the kitchen. "I'll see soon then." He left.

"How ya feelin'?" Buttercup asked  
Blossom, hopping up to sit on the counter.

"Okay," Blossom lied.

"That's good. You slept forever," Buttercup remarked. Blossom sighed miserably.

Suddenly, Blossom heard the front door open. She leaned to the side to see a rather beat-up Bubbles trudging into the living room.

"Hey!" she called breathlessly. "Boomer got someone here to see you!"

Then, behind her, Boomer, even more beat-up, stepped out of the way of none other than a very sullen-looking Brick. Small locks of what was once perfectly-gelled auburn hair haphazardly swept past his forehead. He was paler than usual, and it was more obvious with the glowering red eyes. He straightened a wrinkle in his pressed black leisure suit as he glared ahead into the kitchen.

"Brick, my man!" Butch shouted, jumping up and zooming over to him. He embraced his brother, who begrudgingly returned the hug. "How've you been? What are you doing home?"

"Heard I had family here," Brick said bitterly. "Where's your kid?"

"She's in here," Buttercup called. She floating to the doorway and glared at Brick from across the room. "What's got your panties in a twist?"

"It's early," Brick curled his tongue, throwing her a very unpleasant look.

"And that's a reason to be an ass?" Buttercup asked, crunching into her apple again.

"Bridie!" Butch called. "Get in here and say hi to your uncle."

"Other uncle?" Bridie said, hovering in the doorway next to Buttercup. Butch beckoned her over. Bridie looked at Buttercup, who snorted and nodded. She narrowed her eyes as she watched Bridie shyly float over to Brick. Brick smirked.

"This is it?" he said.

"Hi," Bridie muttered.

"Bridie, show your manners!" Buttercup instructed. She tossed her apple over her shoulder into the sink. She crossed her arms and slinked into the living room. "I want you to be an example of real tact, unlike some people."

Blossom instinctively leapt up from her seat and rushed after Buttercup, sensing trouble. Buttercup stopped behind Bridie, giving Brick the coldest of looks. Brick returned the glare, until he noticed Blossom whip into the room.

"Blossom, how nice to see you," he said coolly.

"Brick," Blossom said with a nod. "How are you?"

"Not good," Brick replied, turning back to Buttercup. "Clearly."

"Whoa, whoa, what the hell?" Butch said, stepping in between Brick and Buttercup. He looked at his brother. "Boomer brought you here to say hello, man, not start shit." He looked at Buttercup. "Cool it, babe. He just got here."

"He started it," Buttercup retorted. "He was rude to Bridie."

"Well, then," Brick said, forcing a smile on his face and leaning down to Bridie. He held out his hand. "I'm so sorry for being inconsiderate. Hello, Bridie, I'm Brick. You're uncle."

"Hi?" Bridie shook his hand warily, totally confused. She let go and stumbled back into Buttercup's legs.

"That's better," Buttercup sulked. Brick grimaced at her and stood up.

"'Sup, man?" Butch asked. He looked at Boomer. "How was the monster?"

"We did great!" Bubbles answered for him. Boomer moodily stared at his feet as Bubbles eagerly explained how they smashed the giant lizard into the ground, putting lots of emphasis on such a great job Boomer did.

"I showed up right when the monster was pinning Boomer to the ground," Brick said. He looked at Butch. "He called me yesterday and told me you were in town. Figured I should come and check into things."

"Well, let's go!" Butch said, hopping up towards the staircase. "I just need to change, and we should go do something. Get out of the house."

Buttercup whirled around.

"You're not going anywhere," she said. "Bridie's gotta take a blood test."

"Can't you do that without me?" Butch asked, sinking to the ground a bit.

"No, I want you there," Buttercup said. She pointed to Bridie. "You _need_ to be there."

"She'll be fine with you. Won't you, Bridie?" Butch looked expectantly at Bridie.

"Mommy, it's okay," Bridie said. Buttercup shook her head.

"No, I really want you there," she repeated.

"You're gonna take this?" Brick asked Butch. Buttercup sneered at him. Boomer stepped over to Brick.

"Stay out of it," he warned Brick. Butch glanced at Brick, then looked back at Buttercup.

"Please, can I hang out with my brother? I haven't seen him in months," he begged.

"Can't you wait until afterwards?" Buttercup said. Suddenly, Bubbles stepped forward.

"Hey, Buttercup, let 'em go. I'll sit with you," she volunteered. She grinned. Buttercup frowned.

"But…"

"Thanks, Bubbles!" Butch said, a little too enthusiastically. "She'll be fine, babe. You guys'll be fine." Butch grinned and held up his thumbs. Buttercup snorted and shook her head.

"Fine," she sighed. "Come on, Bridie." She, Bridie, and Bubbles headed downstairs to the lab, Bubbles quickly shutting the door behind her.

"Really?" Brick said. He glared at Butch. "You just let her do that?"

"Do what?" Butch asked.

"Try to control your life like that. That was ridiculous!" Brick scolded. Butch rolled his eyes and drifted over to his brothers.

"What's the matter with you?" Brick continued. "Why are you not standing up for yourself? Where's the Butch I know? My brother? The hard-ass that follows his own rules? Or mine, depending on the situation. What happened? You're letting some tight-ass bitch have a say in your everyday life, Butch."

"Hey!" Blossom yelled. "That's my sister, you're talking about!"

"Butt out!" Brick yelled back. He turned to Boomer. "And _you_. Getting beat up by some grimy lizard monster? _Fighting crime?_ What happened to you? What are you, a pansy hero? And I see the way you look at her, you _like_ her, don't you?"

"Hey!" Blossom yelled again. She leapt forwards, and pressed a finger into Brick's chest. "If you're going to insult my family and reprimand your brothers like this in _my_ house, you can leave!"

Blossom shoved Brick towards the front door. Brick jumped back, startled. He straightened his suit jacket indignantly.

"Watch it! It's Versace!"

"I don't care! What's your problem? Coming in here acting like a total jerk—"

"I'm sorry!" Brick surrendered, both hands up. Blossom stared at him reproachfully. Butch and Boomer watched them curiously, Boomer rubbing his neck nervously, and Butch wiping his nose. Brick looked at Blossom, forcing himself to look apologetic.

"Things aren't so good right now," he admitted. Blossom stared at him a moment. Then, she shook her head.

"No, they're not," she agreed. "Come have something to drink."

Brick sighed and lowered his hands, brushing off his suit. He looked at Butch and Boomer.

"Go get ready," he said. "I have to speak to her, er, privately."

"Um, Blossom?" Boomer asked quietly. "Can I use the shower?"

"Go ahead," Blossom said with a nod. He and Butch quickly headed upstairs, and Blossom and Brick headed into the kitchen. Blossom pulled down another mug from the cabinet and carefully grabbed the coffee pot.

"Cream and sugar?" she asked.

"Oh, God, no," Brick groaned. "Black." He flopped into a chair and Blossom set the mug in front of him. She sat down next to him and frowned.

"What's going on?" she demanded.

"Well," Brick started, looking away from her. "Point blank, you haven't heard anything on the surface about, um, my line of work, have you?"

Blossom eyed him. "You mean the mafia?"

Brick rolled his eyes and shot her a nasty look. "Oh, tell the whole world, won't you?"

"Sorry," Blossom said dryly. "No, I haven't heard anything. Why?"

"Are you sure?" Brick urged, searching Blossom with his eyes for something more. Blossom folded her arms in front of her and snorted.

"I'm sure. Why do you ask?"

"There's… there's some trouble…" Brick replied quietly. He looked off in the distance again. "Someone, uh… someone called a hit on Guerelli."

"Really?" Blossom's voice changed slightly. She was immediately worried. Guerelli – or Don Guerelli – was the head of the Guerelli family, the same family that Brick worked for over the past few years. Last year, the Guerellis helped Brick and Blossom bring down Princess and her plot to take over the world with Sedusa and Him. Despite being very powerful criminals themselves, Blossom wholeheartedly respected them, and as long as they weren't killing innocent people, she turned a blind eye to their workings… not that she's heard anything since then anyway.

"Do you know why? I mean, he _is_ the boss, so it's not that surprising," Blossom said.

"Being a top underground boss does _not_ mean he should get hit," Brick said bitterly. "It's not who he is, it's what he did. Or to be precise, what _we_ did."

"We?" Blossom repeated. "Who's 'we?'"

"You know who 'we' are. You, me, and the Guerellis."

"What?!" Blossom cried. "I didn't do anything!"

Brick hushed her, glancing out the window anxiously. He lowered his voice and stared at her.

"Of course you did something. We took down Princess, who started one of the biggest businesses underground to date."

"So?" Blossom said huffily.

"So, do you know how many other families invested into Morbucks Machinery? Do you know how much money was thrown down for her top-of-the-line weapons? Do you know how many people we personally screwed over by taking her down?"

Blossom's eyes widened. She never considered that. _They_ never considered that. Blossom's heart began to pound as she wondered just how many vendettas she earned last year.

"If there's one thing you don't do," Brick whispered. "It's come between a businessman and their money. And if that businessman happens to be a criminal…"

"What about us?" Blossom questioned. "What about me? What about my family? Our families?"

"I don't know," Brick said fearfully. "All I know is that someone wants to kill the Don, and I'm supposed to protect him. The only reason they let me come here was to follow a lead as to who that someone might be."

"Well, who?" Blossom asked.

"Don't worry about it," Brick said. He pushed his mug, still full, away from him. He stood up. "I just wanted to know if you heard anything, and to let you know what's going on. You and I shouldn't be in any real danger. Well, mostly you."

"What do you mean?"

"Your job's not on the line," Brick said irritably. Blossom snorted.

"I don't have a job."

Brick raised an eyebrow curiously. He frowned.

"Sorry to hear that," he said.

"It's nothing," Blossom spat. She leaned back in her seat, lost in thought.

"I'll warn you if there's anything you need to worry about," Brick said, brushing off his jacket yet again.

From the doorway, Butch and a freshly-showered Boomer peeked into the kitchen. Brick nodded at Blossom, he pushed the guys out of the way, and led them out the front door. Blossom bit her lip as she stared at the doorway. What if she actually was in danger? What about her family? The Professor? Her sisters? Bridie? What exactly was going on underground? Who was angry enough to call a hit on the Don? _What was going on?_ Blossom wished Brick would've told her more, but she knew that was dangerous. She would probably theorize with her sisters later.

In the living room, Blossom heard a door slam open. Buttercup zoomed out, glancing out the window, then with a groan, zoomed into the kitchen. She huffed and asked,

"Where'd they go?"

Blossom shrugged, distracted. "Out."

"UGHHH!" Buttercup snarled. "If he's not home before midnight, I swear to God, I'm gonna hit him _so_ hard…"

"Buttercup!" Bubbles said suddenly, streaking into the room next to her. "He'll be home in time. It'll be fine! I know it!"

"He might not be the one you need to hit, anyway," Blossom said. Buttercup narrowed her eyes.

"Oh yeah?"

"I need to tell you guys something," Blossom said. Buttercup's expression softened, and she and Bubbles glided into the room and took a seat.

"We might be in trouble…"


	4. Chapter 4 :: Why Do You Build Me Up?

**Chapter 4**

Unlike the night before, Blossom could barely sleep. After discussing everything with Bubbles and Buttercup earlier, Blossom just had too many worrisome thoughts in her head. Bubbles and Buttercup both agreed that whoever called the hit on Guerelli _had _to know the Brick and Blossom were involved in Princess's downfall. Why else would Brick tell her if it didn't secretly concern her? This had to put Brick and Blossom in danger, thus putting all the Rowdyruff Boys and the Powerpuff Girls in danger. This also put both the Professor and Bridie in danger, and Buttercup immediately went up in arms. No way was her family going to be endangered again. Blossom feared for all of them, and this did nothing to her already crushed self-esteem. How was she going to help them if she couldn't even keep a stable job and fight crime at the same time? How was she going to protect her family against powerful assassins, probably fully aware and trained to destroy them? Bubbles, though, was completely undaunted.

"Blossom, we've saved the world more times than we can count, and you're afraid we can't take on a few petty criminals?"

Blossom supposed she had a point, but right now, Blossom couldn't help but feel overwhelmed. This was too much for even her, and she just wanted to fall asleep, dreaming nothing ever happened. Unfortunately, this didn't look likely. Blossom stared at the alarm clock, the bright red numbers glaring at her: 4:37 AM. She forced herself to look away, and instead looked through the cracked doorway into the hall. In her bed next to the door, Bubbles slept soundlessly with the hall light glowing softly on her face. Suddenly, another door creaked open and a familiar shadow slowly floated down the hall. Buttercup, her hair a mess and her eyes drooping, yawned as she quietly opened the door. Blossom rolled over, hoping Buttercup wouldn't notice she was awake.

"You didn't happen to see Butch, did you?" Buttercup asked groggily. Blossom sighed.

"No, I didn't," she replied without a glance. Buttercup sniffed and glided back out of the room, muttering angrily under her breath.

Blossom stared at the window, the moonlight shining brightly on Blossom's feet. She placed her hand over her eyes, blocking the light. She didn't want to think what might be out there, perhaps lurking below her window, ready to strike in a heartbeat. She didn't want to think about how she may have failed again, failed to protect her loved ones from heartless criminals. She didn't want to think about how she failed to simply fall asleep.

Then, a miracle from the heavens, Blossom wasn't thinking about anything. Finally, she fell asleep.

***

_"A-well a-bless my soul what's wrong with me?_

_ I'm itchin' like a man on a fuzzy tree. _

_ My friends say I'm actin' wild as a bug._

_ I'm in love—"_

"I'm all shook up, uh-huh huuh!" Buttercup splashed a plate under the faucet, rinsing the suds off the dish as she popped her hip to the beat of the music. The radio blasted across the kitchen, playing the oldies station the Professor usually had on the dial. The girls grew up with the station on every morning, and the music never failed to create an upbeat and happy breakfast. Because of that, no one had the heart to change the station. Even now, as she did the afternoon dishes, Buttercup decided to dance right along to Elvis Presley, instead of jamming to something else.

Buttercup sang along, scrubbing the rest of the dirty dishes in sync. She could've used the dishwasher, but she desperately needed something to take her mind off of things. Butch never did come home last night, much to Buttercup's bitter dismay, and now with what Blossom told her, Buttercup's anxiety was in a permanent state of flux. Thankfully, Buttercup would deal with Butch later, and Bubbles happily took Bridie off her hands at the moment, so Buttercup simply tried to relax. Strangely, Elvis and the dishes were actually doing to the trick.

Meanwhile, a just snuck-in Butch watched Buttercup from the doorway, arms folded across his chest, eyes watching Buttercup's hips sway. Suddenly, he squeezed his eyes tight, as the ridiculous amount of alcohol from last night drowned his brain for a second. He always enjoyed partying, especially with his brothers, but the hangovers were killer. Unfortunately, the price for his drinking was lot greater than just a hangover. He opened his eyes, and took a deep breath. He silently floated into the room. Buttercup continued to dance, singing right along in her smoky, rock star voice.

"_She touched my hand, oh what a chill I got. Her lips are like a volcano that's hot." _

Butch wrapped his arms around her waist and sang into her ear,

_"I'm proud to say that she's my Buttercup—"_

Buttercup dropped the dishrag and whirled around. Butch grinned.

_"I'm in love—"_

Buttercup pushed him away, and Butch stepped back gracefully, popping his hip on beat.

_"I'm all shook up, uh-huh huuh!"_

Buttercup snorted and hurried to the radio. She turned it off, and turned around, her face deadly.

"Morning, babe!" Butch said, smiling bashfully.

"Don't you 'morning, babe' me," Buttercup snarled. "Why didn't you come home last night?"

"I was out with the boys," Butch said quickly, throwing it away. "But you know, you sound like that one singer, from, like, the eighties. Smokin' hot. What was her name?"

"And what did you _do_ with the boys?" Buttercup asked, gliding closer to him.

"Oh, yeah!" Butch cried. "E.G. Daily. You sound like E.G. Daily. Totally awesome!"

"What did you do?" Buttercup asked again, her voice dripping with menace. Butch blew air out of the corner of his mouth and looked away.

"Ehh, we just… had a couple beers… you know…"

"You went to that fucking strip club again, didn't you?" Buttercup demanded. Butch huffed and shook his head.

"No, we didn't! Why would we do that?"

"Because you always do that!" Buttercup cried. She shoved him aside and collapsed in a chair. She heaved tremendously. "You did this in New York, too! You went out, had nasty sluts grind on your lap, and got wasted off your ass. Don't lie to me, Butch!"

"I did _not_ have sluts grind on my lap, and I did _not _get wasted!" Butch cried out indignantly.

"So you _did_ go to the strip club," Buttercup said quietly.

"Yes, I fucking did!" Butch shouted, changing tactics. "Yes, we went to the fucking club. I drank. So what. I didn't come home drunk, did I?"

"No."

"See? I was more responsible this time, wasn't I?"

"That's not the point, Butch!" Buttercup yelled. She spun around and glared at him. "You promised when we moved back here, you wouldn't do this!"

"Do what?" Butch asked. "Drink? Hang out with my brothers?"

"Get fucked up!" Buttercup shouted. "You know I hate it when you party. We quit, remember?!"

"I never said I did! _You_ quit!" Butch said, pointing his finger at her. "You said you didn't like me smoking at home. So I quit. At home. You said you didn't like me stumbling back home drunk. So I stopped. You said you didn't like me hanging out with my 'good-for-nothing' friends in New York, so I stopped hanging out with them all the time."

"They _were_ good-for-nothing!" Buttercup insisted. "And you still hung out with them."

"Occasionally," Butch reminded her. "I hung out with them _occasionally_. And I'm sorry, I had a bunch of friends who wanted to go to the club and I wasn't going to just stop going because 'my girlfriend said I couldn't.' What the fuck does that make me look like?"

"So you're more concerned about your reputation with your loser friends than you are with me or your daughter. Remember? Your daughter? The one you have?" Buttercup said.

"Oh, coming from you who spent most of your time at work than with our kid," Butch snapped.

"I was making the money so we could survive!"

"And I was raising her while you made the money! And when you came home to relax, I would _occasionally_ go out and relax. It didn't hurt anybody, did it?"

"It pissed me off, Butch," Buttercup growled. "What about me?"

"Why did it piss you off? Why _does_ it piss you off? I don't drink around you and Bridie, I don't smoke around you and Bridie, and I don't bring my 'loser' friends around you and Bridie. Though, I wouldn't call my own brothers 'losers.'" Butch seethed, as Buttercup stared at the table fiercely. Butch softened his tone. "Yeah, I came home late. I was with my family. We hung out and had a few beers. But I didn't hurt anyone. I didn't fuck anyone. I didn't do anything."

Buttercup's lips tightened.

"So you say." She stood up and stepped back over to the sink. She turned on the faucet and went back to doing the dishes. Not bothering to look at him, she said, "Go away. And turn the radio on on your way out."

Butch eyed her. What did she mean by that? 'So you say.' Butch thought a moment… then chuckled. He leaned in next to her.

"Is that it?"

"Go away," Buttercup spat.

"You don't think I'm like, cheating on you or something, do you?" Butch asked softly.

"I said go away!" Buttercup cried, turning her face away from him. Butch smiled and slid an arm across her back.

"Come on, baby, you can't possibly think that about me?"

"GO!" Buttercup nudged him away, and Butch caught a glimpse of her face. Her cheeks were wet, and her eyeliner smeared at the corners. It could've just been the steam from the dishes, but Butch thought differently.

"Just go away, Butch. And turn on the radio."

Butch ran his hands through his hair, concerned. There really wasn't anything else he could do or say. She just had to cool off. This is how it always went. Butch shrugged his shoulders and slipped out of the room, flipping on the radio. The radio blared a few notes on the piano, a familiar tap of the tambourine in the background. Buttercup, recognizing the song right away, groaned and muttered, "I hate this song." She threw the rag back in the seat and rushed to radio to change the station. She reached for the radio when suddenly, a large hand swiped it away.

"What the—"

Butch held the radio above his head, grinning, and sang out as loud as he could,

_"Why do you build me up? Buttercup, baby, just to let me down—"_

"No, no! I hate this song!" Buttercup shouted, covering her ears. She reached for the radio, but Butch held it out of reach and sang happily into her face.

"_I need you! More than anyone, darling. You know that I have from the start…" _

Buttercup pushed him, and Butch, still singing, zoomed around the room, keeping the radio away from her. Buttercup, getting angrier and angrier with each swipe, cursed and shouted at him. But he kept singing, playfully serenading her, despite her treacherous fury.

Above the kitchen, Blossom awakened in her room, rubbing the crust from her eyes. She could hear someone below, a man, singing very loudly to the Foundations. It wasn't the Professor, because whoever was singing surprisingly wasn't half bad. Every now and then, though, Blossom heard an ear-shattering shriek that could only come from Buttercup. She suddenly realized who was singing. She looked over across the room at Bubbles and Bridie, who were surrounded by a sea of toys, but listening intently to the ruckus below.

"Mom and Dad are fighting," Bridie told Blossom. She smiled and went back to playing with her toys.

"That doesn't _sound_ like fighting," Blossom said. She looked at Bubbles, who gave her a funny look. Then, without a second thought, Blossom and Bubbles zipped out of the room and down the stairs. Carefully, the two peeked into the kitchen… and smiled.

_"Baby, baby, try to find… a little time, and I'll make you mine! I'll be home, I'll be beside the phone waiting for youuuu…_"

Butch pulled Buttercup close, one arm wrapped around her waist, as she fought desperately to rip the radio from his other hand… or rip him to shreds, Blossom and Bubbles couldn't decide which. Buttercup tore from his grasp and he dove to the other side of the table, starting another chorus of the song.

"_Why do you build me up? Buttercup, baby, just to let me down._

_And mess me around and then worst of all,_

_You never call baby when you say you will. _

_But I love you still!_

_I need you! Morn than anyone, darling. _

_You know that I have from the start…"_

Buttercup stared him across the table, panting and trying to catch her breath. Her face softened as he continued to sing to her, the smile never once slipping from his face.

"_So build me up, Buttercup, don't break my heart…" _Butch leaned forward, and Buttercup found herself leaning forward, too, her expression a mixture of anger and… well, she didn't know.

_"I-I-I need you-oo-hoo, more than anyone, darling…_"

"You mean it?" Buttercup asked quietly.

"Mean what?" Butch asked.

"Do you love me?"

Butch eyed her, still smiling. He placed a hand on her face and pulled her forward. He kissed her tenderly on the lips.

"Yeah, I love you," he said. Buttercup chuckled. He kissed her again.

"You mean it?" Buttercup asked, breaking away. Butch laughed.

"You know I do."

Buttercup grinned, and dove at him on the table, kissing him right back.

From the doorway, Blossom and Bubbles could hardly contain themselves. Bubbles stifled a squeal, as Blossom almost died laughing. All of a sudden, the kitchen door slammed shut and locked, narrowly missing Blossom and Bubbles' noses. They jumped and stared at the door, wondering how it shut on them. Then, from above, Bridie stood smiling between bars the railing.

"They're happy now," she said. "I'd leave them alone."

With that, she turned around and skipped away. Bubbles turned to Blossom, surprised.

"Did she just—"

"Yeah, probably," Blossom said, smirking. Bubbles frowned.

"Do you think this happens a lot?" she asked. Blossom shrugged.

"The fighting, maybe," she replied. "I sure hope the screwing on the table doesn't, though. That's just gross."

***

A couple hours later, after Blossom watched Bubbles and Bridie play a long game of animal court, Blossom chipping in a few words of wisdom, Buttercup came upstairs into the room. She definitely looked much better than earlier. Blossom and Bubbles awkwardly avoided her gaze as she asked what they wanted for dinner.

"Bridie, get ready to go. We need to get your school supplies. You start next week, you know," Buttercup said. Bridie squeaked and hurried out of the room to get her shoes. Buttercup turned to Blossom and Bubbles. "Do you guys need anything? We can pick up something to eat if you want."

"Buttercup, did you and Butch just do it in the kitchen?" Bubbles asked suddenly. Blossom burst into laughter, and Buttercup turned a deep red.

"We did not!" Buttercup cried. "We, like, kissed, but not… Oh, God, ew! Not in the kitchen. Not in the Professor's kitchen. No, no, no. Ew."

"Oh, thank God!" Bubbles said in relief. "That would've been so gross."

"What the hell, Bubbles?" Buttercup said, promptly stepping over and kicking her in the thigh. She fell over into her pile of stuffed animals, giggling. Blossom smiled at Buttercup. Buttercup folded her arms across her chest and furrowed her eyebrows.

"You guys suck," she said.

Bridie popped back into the room, wearing clunky boots and a raincoat. She was followed by Butch, flipping up the collar of his leather jacket. He stopped in the doorway and looked around, terrified.

"It's so… pink!" he commented. Butch stepped back into the hallway, staring at Buttercup fearfully. "I'm… not going in there."

"Why not?" Buttercup laughed.

"It is way too pink," Butch replied. "Besides, that's… the Powerpuff bedroom. It would be, like, sacrilegious."

"Chicken shit," Buttercup chuckled. She looked at Bridie. "Ready to go?"

"Mommy, can I sleep in Aunt Bubbles and Aunt Blossom's room?" Bridie asked. Buttercup, surprised, eyed her.

"Why?"

"So I can play with all the toys and stuff! It's so cool in here!"

Buttercup began to shake her head and she stopped, hearing a high-pitched whistle from Butch. She looked at him and he nodded enthusiastically. Buttercup eyed him, too.

"Why?"

"I just say yes," Butch said, smiling. He and Buttercup looked at each other, Butch silently trying to tell her something. Then, after a minute, Buttercup got it.

"As long as it's okay with your aunts," she said. She smiled enthusiastically.

"I don't mind," Bubbles said. She looked at Blossom.

"Where will she sleep?" Blossom asked, not sure if she wanted Bridie to stay with her. She loved her, of course, but one more person in the room? Blossom was already attached to her personal space.

"My old bed," Buttercup said. "Duh."

"Well," Blossom glanced down at her bed sadly, knowing she'd lose her comfy queen-sized bed if she agreed.

"Blossom," Buttercup began to bargain. "Our apartment in New York was a studio, meaning it was, you know, one bedroom. Meaning all three of us shared a room for a year and a half."

"Meaning we'd really appreciate the break," Butch added hopefully. "Personal space, you know?"

"It's temporary," Buttercup said.

"Pleeeeeeeease, Aunt Blossom?" Bridie begged.

Blossom sighed and looked at Buttercup. After what she saw earlier, Blossom knew damn well why Butch and Buttercup wanted their own room. And Bridie sure did like it in here. Blossom rolled her eyes.

"Sure, why not?"

"Yessss!" Bridie cheered, silently joined in by Butch. Buttercup smiled gratefully, and nudged Bridie out of the room.

"As long as you get Chinese food," Blossom said.

"Thanks, guys," Buttercup said. "And no problem. Chinese, it is."

Just as Buttercup stepped out of the room, Blossom called back at her.

"Not in the Professor's guest room, either, okay?"

Buttercup turned back. She smirked, one eyebrow raised.

"You're kidding, right?"

***

"I need three boxes of Kleenex," Bridie announced, reading off her list of school supplies.

"Three?!" Butch cried. "What the hell do you need three for?"

"It's for the class, daddy!" Bridie insisted.

Buttercup idly pushed the cart down the aisle of the Townsville Mini-Mart, staring at the towering pile of school stuff. She tore her gaze away and considered a nice pair of sunglasses on display nearby.

"Shit, why can't each of the kids get their own damn box of Kleenex and keep it at their own desk. Then everyone would be able to blow their noses and parents wouldn't have to friggin' buy more than they need to," Butch grumbled.

"I need to get extra crayons, glue, and scissors, too," Bridie added.

"No, are you kidding me?!" Butch shouted. Buttercup looked at him coolly. Butch looked at her furiously.

"Do we _have_ to?"

"Ms. Keane is high maintenance," Buttercup said. Butch rolled his eyes.

"Ms. Keane has got to be joking," he spat. "It's kindergarten."

"Bridie, just go and get the Kleenex," Buttercup told her. Bridie obeyed, and zoomed off to the toiletries aisle.

"Do you ever think this shit is just too normal for us?" Buttercup asked Butch, the two strolling down the aisle.

"Naw," Butch said sardonically. "This isn't normal. Supplying your kid for school is normal, not supplying the whole fucking class."

Buttercup chuckled. Butch kicked at a piece of fuzz on the ground, his hands jammed into his coat pockets. They walked silently for a moment, the cart squeaking as one lone wheel suddenly stopped rolling. Buttercup pushed the cart anyway, and Butch glanced at some boots on display until –

"They don't sell bullets at the Townsville Mini-Mart!"

The hair on Buttercup's neck stood up, as she suddenly heard a familiar, slimy, snake-like voice. Every instinct shot through her body, and she streaked down the aisle with the cart, leaving a very surprised Butch in his place. Buttercup skidded to a stop at the main aisle, almost running right into—

"Ace."

"Buttercup?"

Ace, with his slick, greasy hair, and pale green skin, stood next to a very attractive brunette with stark blue eyes and a permanently annoyed face. She was very well-dressed, and from what Buttercup could tell, very much in shape. She didn't look one bit like someone who would be seen with Ace, who definitely didn't look much different than the last time Buttercup saw him, if a bit scruffier. Then again, the last time she saw Ace, he was handcuffed to a bed, naked. Buttercup shuddered.

"Who's this?" Buttercup asked, snarkier than intended.

"Excuse me?" The brunette said bitterly.

"Uh, Buttercup, this is, um—"

"Call me Strike," the woman said. She held out a hand. Buttercup smirked.

"Hi, eh, _Strike,_" Buttercup said, shaking the Strike's hand. Strike grasped a little too hard, and Buttercup's natural instincts did not like this woman one bit. Not at all.

"Strike," Ace said strangely. "This is Buttercup. She's… she's…"

"An old acquaintance," Buttercup finished. "What are you, his new piece?"

"Piece?" Strike repeated, her lip curling. "Are you one of his old ones?"

"Ladies, ladies," Ace said, stepping between them. "Chill out! No, Buttercup, this is just a friend. Strike, this is just another… old friend, I suppose."

"Buttercup, what the hell—"

Butch stopped behind her, and eyed Ace and Strike. He laughed.

"Whoa, what's this?" he asked. He looked at Strike strangely. "Do I know you?"

"I doubt it," she answered.

"No, Ace, they _don't_ sell bullets at the Townsville Mini-Mart. What do you need them for anyway?" Buttercup demanded.

"I wanted to go shooting," Strike said. "At the local range, of course. Ace was taking me."

"Ace isn't exactly the most legit, though, aren't you, Ace?" Buttercup said.

"Come on, babe, let's go," Butch said, sensing trouble. Ace snickered.

"No way!" Ace cried out. "You and the Rowdyruff? Nooo."

"Yeah," Buttercup said. "What about it?"

"Nothing, just, wow…" Ace said. He looked at Strike. "Come on, let's go."

"Yeah, let's go," Butch said to Buttercup.

"Hey, Mommy! Daddy!"

All of them turned to see Bridie streaking through the store towards them, her sea green beam following her. Ace and Strike's mouths fell open. Excited, Bridie held up a baseball bat and a glove.

"Can I play baseball? I wanna play baseball!"

"You… you h-had a kid?" Ace stammered.

"Yeah," Buttercup said. "And? What are you up to, Ace?"

"Come on, Ace," Strike said, grabbing Ace's arm. "Let's go." Strike dragged Ace off, waving shortly behind her. Buttercup watched them as they zigzagged through the aisle and out of sight.

"They're up to something, I know it," Buttercup said to herself. She forced herself to calm down, and looked back at Bridie. "What do you want again?"

"I wanna play baseball!" Bridie whined. "The bats are half-off."

"Bridle, you can't play baseball. It's not fair for the other kids, trust me," Buttercup said.

"But _moooooooom_!" Bridie moaned.

"Bridie, they wouldn't let me play sports in high school because of my powers. They'll say the same thing to you," Buttercup explained. Butch raised an eyebrow.

"She can play it at home," he said.

"We already bought enough shit, I wanna just get the food and go home."

"But _moooooom!" _Bridie moaned again.

"You're just afraid to play against her," Butch said slowly. "She might beat you."

Buttercup looked at him, her eyes narrowing. Butch smiled, and glanced at Bridie. Bridie caught on and grinned.

"Yeah, mom, 'fraidy cat!" she taunted.

Buttercup turned her gaze to Bridie. Butch gave Bridie a knowing glance, and then looked away, whistling to himself.

"Is that a challenge?" Buttercup asked. Bridie and Butch nodded. Buttercup sighed. She snatched the bat and glove and tossed them in the cart. Knowing she was just played, she was still excited about a potential super baseball game. This was going to be interesting.

"You're on."


	5. Chapter 5 :: The Queen of Clubs

**Chapter 5**

"_Hello?_"

"Hey, you," said Strike, as she carefully placed her slim, expensive cell phone between her chin and shoulder and gently polished her prized Heckler & Koch PSG-1 semi-automatic sniper rifle.

"_I was wondering when you would ring_," the crystal-clear voice tingled back at her through the phone.

"Well, I figured that I should tell you that we might have run into a little snag in the production," Strike said.

"_Well, what are you waiting for?_" the voice snapped. Strike made a face, and repositioned the phone.

"It seems that earlier today, I ran into the targets' siblings, at least according to my accomplice," Strike glanced up at Ace, who was leaning back in a chair staring at the ceiling through his cat-eye sunglasses. Strike had no idea why he insisted on wearing them, even in the dim, tiny office where they sat. Ignoring the thought, she leaned forward, her short brown hair fluttering past her neck, and placed her precious gun on the desk.

"_And?_" the other voice commanded.

"Well, from what I know, there are four siblings, two sisters and two brothers."

"_Wonderful. A family. What's your point?" _

"What's my point!?" Strike suddenly shouted, standing up and kicking her chair to the side. "I'm sorry, but did you take into account that the whole fucking family has super powers?"

"_Oh?_"

"Yes, Colette! The whole fucking family! What the hell's wrong with you? You expect me to take out two of these and act like the rest won't be out for blood?"

"_Evie…_" Colette, the voice on the phone, was quite used to her dear friend's outbursts; it's why she promoted her, after all. Evan "Evie" Strike had just the guns, quite literally, to be one of Colette's right-hand women. She did not, however, have the mental stability that Colette would have preferred, but it was only a minor setback and easily dealt with.

"_Evie, darling, what am I to you?_"

Strike snorted and fell back into her chair. "My boss."

"_And?_"

"…My best friend."

"_Now, as your boss, do you think I wouldn't have considered all that?" _

"Well, no…" Strike tapped her foot irritably.

"_And as your best friend, don't you think I'm also working for your best interests?"_

"I guess so."

"_So, are you offended that I didn't fill you in on that piece of information? Don't you know that I know that you wouldn't do it if I told you? You would overreact and probably—_"

"Want to take out the whole lot of them?" Strike finished for her. "Damn straight."

"_Evie, I can't afford for you to fly off the handle,_" Colette said firmly.

"Colette, I can't afford anymore vendettas!" Strike exclaimed. "And the last thing I need is four super-jerks and a super-brat on my ass for killing their family."

"_What did you say?_"

"I said I can't afford—"

"_No, no,_" Colette interrupted. "_Super-brat?_"

"Yeah, what about her?" Strike demanded.

"_What brat?"_ Colette asked, interested.

"Two of siblings have a kid. I know she can fly, but I don't know. What about her?" Strike asked again. She could really care less about the kid – the kid was a kid, so what? There was a long silence on the other line, and Strike had the uneasy feeling that Colette was thinking very hard.

"_Change of plans, Evie,_" Colette said finally.

"What?" Strike sat up in her chair, confused.

"_I'm calling off the hit."_

"What?!" Strike shrieked. Yeah, she was afraid of vendettas, but she was more afraid of not getting a chance to destroy something.

"_I have a different idea. Stay put, I'll call you back when I have it all figured out."_

"But, Colette—"

"_I'll call you back in a little bit," _Colette repeated. "_Sit tight, Evie."_

"Fine," Strike spat.

"_Vive la victoire,_" Colette said.

"_Vive la victoire,_" Strike said quietly. She hung up.

"So, now what's goin' on?" Ace asked calmly, swinging his legs on the desk and tilting his sunglasses down. Strike sniffed loudly and swiped her rifle off the desk. She tossed it in its case and threw it on a shelf nearby. She sighed and flopped onto the fluffy loveseat along the wall.

"No idea," Strike replied irritably. "We'll just have to wait for the Queen to let us know."

***

"Hey, batter batter, hey batter batter SWING!"

Bridie giggled madly from the outfield as Buttercup smacked the base below her with the bat. She knelt into position, bat poised in the air, and focused her eyes ahead, ignoring her daughter's taunts. She glared at Boomer, who was revving up for the pitch. He visibly gulped, and Buttercup grinned.

"Gimme your best shot, you wimp," she muttered.

It was dusk, and the Powerpuffs and Rowdyruffs, plus Bridie, were in the first half of the 9th inning of their super-powered baseball game, the points even at 23. Buttercup was at the plate, Blossom on third, and Bubbles on first. Butch knelt next to Buttercup, silently suggesting pitches for Boomer to throw, as Brick stood behind them irritably supervising the game. The field they played in at Townsville Park was perfect – brightly lit with the evening sun, fairly empty of trees and people, and big enough for a game of _their_ magnitude. Everyone was having a grand ole time, except Brick. He didn't want to play at all, but after some relentless but admirable extortion from his brothers, he settled for umpire.

Boomer gulped again, and he leaned back. He pitched, the baseball spiraling towards Buttercup at high speed. She snorted and swung, striking the ball with such force the wooden bat splintered in her hands. In less than a second, Buttercup dropped the pieces and zoomed to first base, just as Blossom and Bubbles rocketed around the bases. Bridie shot after the ball, zipping faster and faster through the air, her gloved hand reaching out. She caught it and instinctively hurled it back at Boomer, who caught it with surprising ease, who then hurled it at Butch just as Buttercup slid into home. A cloud of dirt and grass puffed in the air, and Brick held up one hand. After the cloud sunk back to the ground, Brick smiled and pointed behind him.

"You're out!"

"I am not!" Buttercup snarled. She jumped and began animatedly defending her play, as Brick stood happily barking back at her.

"No! No! No! I slid into home, dammit, before he caught it! I was on second when Bridie caught it—"

"Butch caught it right when you left third! I saw it, I call it! You're out! You're out, and—"

Butch laughed and tossed the ball at Blossom nearby. Brick and Buttercup continued bantering as the others rotated positions, Blossom as catcher, Bubbles in the field, and Bridie up to bat. After a moment, Butch silently grabbed Buttercup's arm and dragged her away from Brick, placing her on the pitcher's mound. She kept shouting at him, and Brick stood there casually, taking deep pleasure in calling her out.

"I swear to God, Red, I'm gonna knock you out so hard…" Buttercup shouted at brick from across the field.

"Oh, bite me!" Brick yelled back, still smiling. Buttercup fumed and Blossom tossed the ball at her. She caught it, not once even looking at it. Bridie stood at the plate, with the new metal bat in hand. It was already dented in numerous places, some so bad that Butch had to twist them back into shape. After this game, they'll have gone through six bats, half busted by Buttercup alone.

"Score 25 to 23," Brick announced.

"You ready, princess?" Buttercup called to Bridie. Bridie spit on the plate and raised the bat, a newly-formed habit she learned from her dad. She even quivered with excitement, but the fierce look of anticipation could only have come from mom. She nodded.

Blossom didn't bother suggesting a pitch. Buttercup flawlessly pitched a curve ball straight passed Bridie and into Blossom's glove. Bridie groaned as Blossom tossed the ball back and Brick called out, "Strike one." Bridie sighed and positioned herself again, concentrating hard on the ball. She made a face, but Buttercup shook her head.

"No funny business, kid,"

"You're no fun," Bridie said, rolling her eyes. She straightened her face and positioned herself once more. Buttercup reared back and pitched again, but this time—

_WHACK!_

Bridie dropped the bat and darted to first base, Bubbles hurrying after the ball. Buttercup locked onto Bubbles, watching her like a hawk, ready to catch the ball in a split-second. Right on cue, Bubbles caught the ball and launched it at Buttercup. Buttercup grabbed it and knocked it at Blossom, quick and perfect like a pinball machine.

"Safe!"

Bridie stopped on third base, right before Blossom caught the ball. Bridie panted, trying to catch her breath. Buttercup smirked.

"Wise move, sister," she said. Bridie grinned, showing her tiny baby teeth. Butch stepped up to the plate, picking up the bat from the grass. He snorted loudly and spat on the plate.

"That's so gross," Bubbles said from behind Buttercup. Buttercup chuckled.

"I've seen him do much grosser."

***

"I've got 'em here, Colette," Strike said, peering through a scope as she stood on one of the higher buildings in downtown Townsville. Her spot was perfect for spying on the baseball game, though she would usually considered this the perfect spot for killing.

"_Show me," _Colette commanded.

Strike aimed the scope, centering directly on Brick and Blossom. She then pressed a few buttons on her cell phone, putting Colette on speaker phone and bringing up her camera phone, and held it between her and the scope. Strike and Colette now had a high quality view of the unsuspecting players far below. They watched for a minute.

"_Take a picture."_

Strike snapped a picture and immediately sent it to Colette. She turned off speaker phone and brought the phone back to her ear.

"There. You see it. Now what?" she asked.

"_Good work!_" Colette congratulated. _"Now listen carefully…_"

***

"Did you feel something?" Brick asked Blossom, taking a quick glance behind him. Blossom glanced at him, frowning.

"No..."

"Hm," Brick looked behind him again, paused, then turned back to the game.

Buttercup whipped the ball and Butch got it on the first hit. The ball flew miles away, and Bubbles' baby blue streak grew smaller and smaller the further she flew to catch it. Bridie hopped to third as Butch circled around the bases in another extraordinary home run. Buttercup seethed from the pitcher's mound, hands planted on her hips. A few seconds later, Bubbles appeared above their heads, breathless. She dropped the ball and Buttercup swiped it from the air.

"Score even, 25 to 25," Brick called. "Bottom of the ninth."

Boomer stepped up to the plate as Butch and Bridie sat in the grass off the side. Boomer carefully grabbed the bat and slowly knelt into position. Buttercup grinned and began to laugh. A bead of sweat slid down the side of Boomer's face – Buttercup had successfully struck him out every round this game. With the scores even again and at the bottom of the ninth, Boomer _had_ to get a point. Brick and Butch would chide him for months if he didn't.

"You can do it, Uncle Boomer!" Bridie cheered.

Buttercup's laughter rose into a disheartening cackle. Boomer sighed deeply, hoping to calm his jittering nerves. Brick made a sound behind him.

"Really, Boomer? Are you really afraid of her?" he hissed.

"Read-yyyy?" Buttercup called in a singsong voice. Boomer sighed once more and nodded.

_WHOOSH!_

Boomer didn't even flinch. The ball zipped right past him and landed in Blossom's glove. She tossed the ball back as Brick irritably called, "Strike one." Boomer repositioned his grip. Buttercup laughed again as she poised herself. In a split second, she pitched, and Boomer instinctively swung. He missed, the ball thudding into Blossom's glove once more.

"Strike two," Brick growled.

"Mother… shit…" Boomer muttered under his breath. He hissed and paused to crack his knuckles.

"Can't we just start the next inning?" Buttercup asked, smiling, as Blossom threw the ball back to her. "This is just cruel."

"Come on, Boomer!" Bubbles yelled. Boomer perked up, and he looked at her, wide-eyed. Buttercup whirled around and gave Bubbles a nasty look.

"Hey, whose team are you on?" she demanded.

"You can do it, Boomer," Bubbles said with a smirk. "Buttercup throws like a girl anyway."

Buttercup's face twisted. Boomer chuckled, as his insides squirmed uncomfortably. Buttercup turned back around and gave Boomer a look that made his insides suddenly want to vacate all its contents. He knelt back into position and prayed she would do the least painful thing possible. Buttercup patted the ball in her glove again and again, each time more violent than the last.

"You can do it, Boomer!" Bubbles called.

Buttercup whipped the ball forward and Boomer swung.

"_RUN! RUN, BOOMER, RUN!" _

Butch, Bridie, and Brick all leapt up and screamed at Boomer. He stood frozen to the spot as Buttercup stared at him awestruck. It took another moment for him to realize it – he hit the ball.

_"RUN!" _

Boomer dropped the ball and happily rocketed to first base. His teammates, plus Brick, cheered him on as he raced to second, and started for third. Even Blossom backed away from home base, a smile on her face. Buttercup sunk to the ground, muttering inaudibly to herself. Boomer turned and hurried to home, the proud faces of his brothers flashing before his eyes, the numerous taunts to throw at Buttercup forming in his head… He smiled and leaned back to slide into home—

"_OOFFfff_!"

Boomer couldn't figure out what happened. The back of his head exploded in pain, his ears ringing a disturbing chord. Dirt and grass rained around him, but the soft weight on his chest couldn't be that. He opened his eyes a bit, hoping not to get soil in his eyes. But there wasn't soil – only a glowing face with bright blue eyes and a curtain of light blonde hair. The face above him was smiling, and Boomer's throat closed up. He couldn't breathe, he could barely think, and he did the only thing he could possibly think of at this moment. Boomer pulled the face closer to him –

And he kissed Bubbles.

The world disappeared. All they could feel was the warmth between their bodies, and the gentle force between their lips. They didn't hear Brick shout "Safe!" in a much angrier tone than needed. They didn't hear Bridie break into a fit of giggles. They didn't see Buttercup and Butch's mouths literally drop at the sight. They didn't even notice the confused and surprisingly jealous flash in Blossom's eyes. They heard nothing. They could see nothing. There really wasn't anything but each other.

Then the world came back. Bubbles gasped and jumped up. She stared at Boomer, the shock on his face both terribly funny and dreadfully heart-breaking. She couldn't believe what just happened, and frankly, neither could he. Bubbles leapt off him and backed away, frightened. Boomer sat up and stared at her, his expression not changing. They looked at each other for a moment, unsure of how to react. Then Boomer's face sunk and twisted into anguish.

"Aw, shit," he grumbled.

Faster than a lightning strike, Boomer disappeared into the sky, heading off into the city. Bubbles stared after him, baffled.

"Boomer?" she whispered.

"God damn it!" Brick shouted. Bubbles and the others looked at him. Brick ran a hand through his hair and glared at Bubbles. "Why'd you have to do that?"

"I didn't—"

Brick ignored her and took off after his brother, leaving a fiery red streak behind. Butch stood awkwardly around the girls, rubbing his arm anxiously. He looked around at the others, Blossom, Bubbles, Bridie, than lastly, Buttercup. He smiled weakly.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Buttercup asked with a smirk. Butch grinned and followed his brothers, his forest green blaze trailing after him. The girls stared after him a second, and then Blossom rushed over to Bubbles. She helped her up, Bubbles looking more frightened than ever.

"You okay?" Blossom asked.

"Yeah," Bubbles whimpered. She grabbed at her ponytail and twiddled the locks. "But I think I broke him."

***

"GAHHH! I broke him! I broke Boomer! I broke him, I broke him…" Bubbles rocked back and forth on her bed as Blossom sat next to her, trying her damnedest to calm her sister. Almost four hours later, and Bubbles was still freaking out about the kiss.

"You didn't break him," Buttercup said. "He's just a confused, socially inept, chicken shit."

Buttercup sat on the light pink carpet with Bridie playing blackjack. Bridie stared purposefully at the deck at Buttercup shuffled the cards over and over again. She dealt the cards, two for Bridie, two for herself, all four cards face down.

"What do you have?" Buttercup asked. Without looking at her hand, Bridie answered.

"Queen of spades and the ace of clubs."

She flipped her cards over and sure enough, she was right. Buttercup grinned.

"What did you give me?"

"Two of hearts and the jack of diamonds," Bridie said. Buttercup flipped her hand over and once again, Bridie was right. Buttercup sniffed. "You're getting good at this."

"Buttercup," Blossom said suddenly. "Are you teaching Bridie to cheat?"

"Yep," Buttercup laughed. She and Bridie high-fived and Buttercup grabbed the cards and started shuffling again. Bridie never took her eyes off the deck, not even to blink.

"But it's cheating!" Blossom said incredulously.

"No, it's teaching her to play the world in her favor," Buttercup said.

Blossom clicked her tongue and looked back at Bubbles. Bubbles was still rocking, with her face buried in her pillow and a small purple doll tucked in her arms. Blossom smiled to herself, amused that Bubbles still found comfort in her old stuffed octopus with the little black hat named "Octi."

"Bubbles, Buttercup is right, though. For the hundredth time, you didn't do anything wrong," Blossom soothed.

"But that look!" Bubbles sobbed. "Like, like he made the biggest mistake ever. Like he just… just really messed up."

"He's probably just as scared as you are," Blossom suggested.

"I don't know," Bubbles cried. "I still think I broke him."

"Bubbles," Buttercup said, tossing the deck of cards on the ground and turning around. "Look, dude. I told you. Boomer is chicken shit. He just kissed you, and in front of all of us, especially his brothers. He's embarrassed with us, he's scared of his brothers, and he probably thinks you hate him now because he doesn't think you like him."

"But…but… " Bubbles stammered. "I don't hate him."

"But you like him," Bridie said suddenly. Blossom, Buttercup, and Bridie stared at Bubbles. Bubbles bit her lip and shrugged.

"Um…" was all she could muster. She blushed, and hid her face back in her pillow.

"What time is it?" Buttercup asked, glancing at Blossom's alarm clock. The bright red numbers glowed "11:42." Buttercup snorted.

"I swear, if he isn't home before midnight, I'm gonna—"

"Do what?"

The girls looked at the doorway. Butch leaned against the frame, making sure he didn't lean too far into the bedroom. Bridie hopped in the air and greeted him, and Buttercup stood up. She smiled.

"You're home," she said. Butch nodded.

"Yeah, I figured I shouldn't stay out too late," he said. Buttercup stood in front of him, her face inches away from him. He smiled and blew into her face. "I'm clean." Buttercup smiled and stepped away.

"Anyways," Butch continued. "I had to pass on the news."

"Is Boomer okay?" Bubbles shrieked. "Did I break him? Is he okay? Tell me he's okay."

"Yeah, he's fine," Butch replied with a laugh. "He's fucking wasted as hell right now, but he'll be fine. But he wanted me to tell you he's sorry, and that he's sorry, and, um, he's sorry."

"Oh no!" Bubbles cried. She slammed her face into her pillow once more and continued rocking. Butch looked at her curiously.

"Bubbles, it's okay," Blossom said. "Maybe you should try and get some sleep, and maybe you guys can talk in the morning."

"Afternoon," Butch corrected. "At the earliest. Maybe night would be better."

"Okay, tomorrow night," Blossom said. "Tomorrow either way. We should get to sleep though, okay?"

Bubbles groaned and fell over on her bed, curled up in the fetal position. Blossom patted her on the arm and stood up.

"Bridie, you better go wash up and get to sleep," Buttercup said, turning around and leaning against Butch. Bridie obeyed and hurried to the bathroom. Blossom drifted over to her now twin-size bed and sat. She looked up at Butch and Buttercup.

"How's Brick?" she asked.

"Ehhhh," Butch said ominously. "If he doesn't like me and her—" he nudged Buttercup. "—that should answer your question."

"Hm," Blossom said. Butch stepped out and Buttercup followed him, flipping the light off behind her.

"'Night Blossom. 'Night Bubbles," she said, pulling the door almost shut behind her. Blossom said good night and Bubbles made a quiet squeak.

Blossom sat in the dark, listening to the muffled sounds of water running in the bathroom and the soft chirps from the crickets outside. She sighed, and she felt the angry twinge resurface in her chest. The same feeling happened earlier when she witnessed her sister's kiss. She couldn't help it – she was jealous. Very. Blossom had an ulterior reason for asking how Brick was: Blossom wasn't exactly happy about her sisters' relationships with the boys either. She hated to admit it, but it was true. Fortunately, it really was just envy. Blossom was of course terrible happy for her sisters and finding love, but… what about her? What about Blossom? What did her sisters have that she didn't?

Yes, Bubbles was beautiful. She was every boy's dream girl – sweet, good-looking, charming… and blonde. She loved everyone and everything, her heart bigger than the good deeds she performed every day. It was no surprise the when growing up, almost every boy the girls knew had a thing for Bubbles. But Bubbles, even with her hidden hopeless romantic side, never really dated. She just had too much love for the world to focus on only one boy, and she just had too much moral fiber to act out.

And Buttercup… despite her less-than-feminine and dry-humored ways, Blossom still saw her appeal. Buttercup was strong, funny, and definitely sexy. Her passion alone was enough to light any boy's heart on fire, and truly, underneath all the bites and bark, she had a soft side that very few would ever be blessed enough to know. Blossom knew it took a man with a lot of endurance and strength to get to her sister, and though more than a handful have tried, none have prevailed. None until Butch, at least.

So what about Blossom? Wasn't she good-looking, too? She took care of her appearance, always stylish yet reserved, always clean yet natural. Her hair alone was always her pride, and no matter how frazzled Blossom might be, her strawberry blonde locks never even split. Blossom was also smart, charismatic, and a leader. What was there not to like? Yeah, she did sometimes come off somewhat egotistical or maybe even snobby, but she held herself in high esteem, something anyone could admire.

Yet… here was Blossom: hair in a messy bun, unemployed, and alone. She had virtually no real friends, no one to impress, and no reason to look her best for anyone anymore. With her family slowly going their separate ways, her social life nonexistent, her career life in the gutter, and her love life only a dream, what was there left for Blossom to do?

Blossom hopped out of bed and floated to the doorway. Bridie was still in the bathroom, and Blossom was hoping a splash of cold water on her face would make her feel less depressed. She grabbed the doorknob and was about to drift into the doorway, when she saw them. The angry twinge flared again.

Butch and Buttercup were in mid-embrace, faces hidden in the dim hall light. They kissed, Buttercup's knee gliding up the side of Butch's leg. Butch's hand slid up her waist, fingers pulling her shirt along. Buttercup made a low, throaty noise, and Blossom cringed.

She slammed the door shut, the angry twinge burning in her throat and the embarrassment flushing to her face. That was last thing she needed to see, and something she never hoped to accidentally witness again. She then immediately hoped the Professor would miraculously see this and put a stop to it, but the sight might've made him cringe, too.

Mortified, envious, and above all, guilty, Blossom floated back to her bed and slipped under the covers. Salty tears burned her eyes as they silently slid down her face. She didn't know how she would handle this newfound bitterness, but she prayed, for her family's sake as well as her own, that it would go away soon.


	6. Chapter 6 :: A Blossom Covered Brick

**Chapter 6**

Blossom slept in again. When she did wake up at almost noon, she chose to stay in bed, staring haplessly at the wall for an hour or two. Surprisingly, nobody disturbed her. On the other hand, no one disturbed her. She wasn't sure if she was glad or even more depressed, but her mood didn't change either way. At around 2, she finally rolled out of bed and got dressed, throwing her hair into a half-hearted ponytail and heading downstairs for lunch.

Even more surprising, nobody was in the kitchen. Blossom figured everyone probably ate earlier, so she silently made herself a turkey sandwich and grabbed a Diet Coke. She soon discovered, after hearing a loud thump and some indiscernible yelling outside, everyone was in the backyard. She glanced out the window and saw Butch and Bridie tossing a football in the yard. Buttercup and Bubbles were on the lawn chairs, talking amongst themselves. Buttercup seemed rather animated, but Bubbles looked about as worried as last night. Blossom sighed and headed outside to join them.

"…of all the people to over-think shit, Bubbles, I'd've never expected you. You are just too worried about this," Buttercup said. Blossom sat across from them, and her sisters glanced at her.

"'Bout time you got up," Buttercup laughed.

"Morning, Blossom," Bubbles said quietly.

"How you feelin'?" Blossom asked. Bubbles shrugged and wrapped her arms around her legs.

"Bridie!" Buttercup barked. "Pivot foot is the _opposite_ of your throwing arm!"

"I know, mom!" Bridie yelled back.

"Throwing a ball shouldn't be that hard," Blossom commented.

"It's an art, Blossom," Buttercup said grandly. "It takes practice, coordination, skill… and a whole lot of other artsy-fartsy crap that I don't really care about."

"Hey, are the others coming over?" Blossom asked, gesturing towards Butch.

"I don't know, isn't Boomer still hung over?" Buttercup asked. Bubbles moaned and hid behind her knees. Buttercup rolled her eyes and called to Butch.

"Butch!"

"What?!" Butch called back.

"Is Boomer still hung over?!"

"Probably?!"

"Fail!"

"I know, right?!"

"He's such a lightweight," Buttercup laughed. "At least I imagine."

"Girls?"

Blossom, Bubbles, and Buttercup turned to the backdoor, where the Professor stood, his lab coat a mess and his face covered in soot. He lifted his lab goggles and smiled. The goggles made a clean outline on his skin around his eyes. The girls snickered, even Bubbles.

"Um, you have company," he said, pointing behind him. "And I hope you're not expecting more, because the sodium bicarbonate and natural rubidium mixture went a little haywire when they knocked."

"No, I don't think so," Blossom said. The Professor saluted and put the goggles back on his face. He headed back inside, just as a flustered Brick and a surly Boomer headed outside. Bubbles winced at the sight of them. Buttercup immediately jumped up and headed towards Butch and Bridie, Boomer flopping into her spot.

"Hey, Blossom, can we talk?" Brick asked. Blossom's eyebrows rose.

"Sure…" she replied uncertainly. Were she and Brick the ones that needed to talk? She looked at Boomer and Bubbles. She then chuckled, understanding what was going on.

"Yeah, of course," she replied again. She leapt up and followed Brick back into the kitchen. She took one final look at Bubbles, who stared at her fearfully as if begging her not to leave. Blossom shrugged and went inside.

Bubbles swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry. She forced a smile and looked at Boomer. Boomer didn't look well at all, his face a pale shade of green and his eyes bloodshot. Bubbles scooted closer and looked at him hoping he would say something.

"Hi?" Bubbles asked.

"Hey," Boomer said, not even looking at her.

"How are you?" Bubbles tried to sound more cheerful.

"…I guess I'm okay," Boomer replied. He finally looked at Bubbles, and she grimaced. He looked anything but okay. "You?"

"Good," Bubbles said. It was clear to Boomer that she wasn't good, either. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, and asked, "What's… new?"

"Um… not a lot," Boomer answered. Bubbles sniffed and buried her face in her arms. Boomer sighed and looked up at her again. They spoke simultaneously.

"Bubbles—"

"Boomer—"

Bubbles looked up at him and smiled. Boomer chuckled and characteristically rubbed the back of his neck. She nodded at her.

"You first."

"No, you," Bubbles said.

"I insist," Boomer said.

"Nope. You."

They sat for moment in silence, waiting for the other to speak. Bubbles started playing with her hair, twirling the curly locks around her finger. Boomer sighed again, and begrudgingly spoke.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I don't know… what… happened."

"It's okay, I don't hate you," Bubbles said. Boomer blinked and eyed her.

"I didn't…say… you don't hate me?"

"No," Bubbles shook her head.

"Then… what do you…" Boomer looked at her nervously. Bubbles bit her lip. She shrugged.

"I-I don't…"

"Oh, good," Boomer said, his voice suddenly higher than usual. "And you don't hate me. Alright. Won't happen again!"

"No!" Bubbles cried. "That's not what I said!"

"So you do hate me?" Boomer asked, crestfallen.

"No!" Bubbles huffed. "Let me speak!"

"I am! You're not speaking!" Boomer said.

"Because you won't shut up!"

Boomer narrowed his eyes. He folded his arms across his chest and eyed her. He didn't speak.

"I didn't mean it that way," Bubbles said. "What I was trying to saying before was I don't… I… I don't know."

"You don't know what?" Boomer asked.

"I don't know… how… I feel?" Bubbles looked at him, hoping he would understand. Bubbles groaned, becoming more and more flustered as she spoke. "I just… I don't think about… stuff. That much. Ever, really. It's not personal it's just… I just… I just don't know."

"I understand," Boomer said.

"Do you?" Bubbles said.

"….Yeah," Boomer looked away. He kind of understood, but he didn't want to talk about it anymore. He didn't want to talk about it ever. And if just agreeing and getting it over with would make this awkward conversation end, he would say anything.

"Okay. Good," Bubbles said softly. "Do you have anything you want to say?"

"No," Boomer said firmly. "Not at all."

"Okay," Bubbles said. She didn't believe him, but now was not the time to push it.

***

Instead of stopping in the hallway, Brick bee-lined for the living room and collapsed onto the couch. Blossom sat next to him, placing her Diet Coke on the coffee table. She took the last bite of her sandwich and looked at him.

"What's up?"

"Oh, God, everything," Brick spat. He leaned back and held his head, squeezing his eyes in anguish. Blossom stared at him. She quickly realized he didn't just pull her away to let Boomer and Bubbles talk.

Brick looked… _awful_. His usually perfectly gelled hair lay messy and unkempt. His clothes were wrinkled, his dress shirt was not tucked in and the top few buttons were open to reveal his white undershirt. His was also much paler than usual, and it made his freckles more prominent. The thing that disturbed Blossom the most was unsettling brightness in his blood-red eyes. Point blank -- something was up.

"Brick, what's going on?" Blossom asked more firmly. Brick sat up a bit.

"Remember when I asked if you felt something yesterday?" he asked slowly. Blossom gave him a funny look.

"I think so…"

"Okay, remember when I told you about the family?" he said. He looked at her knowingly.

"Of course," Blossom replied.

"Remember when I told you about the… um… hit?" He spoke the last word very quietly.

"Yes." Blossom gulped.

"I think someone was watching us yesterday," Brick said finally. "Which means somebody is watching us _period_."

"You think…" Blossom repeated. "Is this just a guess, or…?"

"No, I know it," Brick said anxiously.

"How?" Blossom asked.

"I just do," Brick insisted. "Blossom, I told you, we helped fuck over a lot of people – dangerous people – and if my people keep getting attacked, people who barely had anything to do with it, I don't see why we won't be next."

"Who was attacked?" Blossom demanded.

"Well, Guerelli almost got shot again this morning up in Chicago. Fucking broad daylight," Brick said. Blossom placed a hand on her mouth, concerned. "And I got some heat for not finding any clues to the lead out here in Townsville."

"Wait," Blossom said suddenly. "Why is there a lead here in Townsville?"

"Why do _you _think?" Brick eyed her, one eyebrow raised. Blossom paused.

"Well, Princess is here in jail…"

"And after you speak with her once or twice, why would they still be here, Blossom?" Brick demanded. "When you need to speak with someone, in this business at least, you get it done and over with and go back to work. They have other unfinished business here in Townsville, and you know it."

It made sense. Blossom didn't want to admit it, but it was all perfectly logical. Suddenly, her heartbeat quickened, and a cold chill trickled down her spine. Blossom didn't want to be some assassin's target. Then again, why should she be afraid?

"But, Brick…" Blossom chuckled nervously. "Why should we be afraid anyway? We're impervious to gunshot, our senses can catch danger miles away, and, well, we're super heroes! Why should we be afraid of some petty Mafioso?"

"Chemical Z."

"Excuse me?"

"Chemical Z," Brick began. "Is a neutralizer. It was designed to counter and balance overabundant chemicals within a system, neither destroy nor enhance. If a person, say, has an overabundance of certain chemical X…"

"It's a weapon made for us!" Blossom exclaimed. "How do you know about this?"

"Mojo Jojo created it and sold it all a few months back," Brick said. "He created it when he still wanted to destroy you guys, but decided to sell it. Fucking softie. Either way, it's not a weapon; it just makes us more human."

"Thus vulnerable?"

"_More_ vulnerable. We're not indestructible."

Blossom let this sink in. A year ago, she and Brick destroyed Princess's plot to world domination and her underground business. In the process, they pissed off a lot of her clients. The underground family they work with is in danger, there's a lead to the danger in Townsville, and a potentially dangerous chemical against the Powerpuffs and Rowdyruffs was created and sold a few months ago.

Crap. Brick might be right.

"So what are we supposed to do?" Blossom asked. "What am I supposed to do? Should I tell the others? Should I just be more careful?"

"Well, we don't know exactly who's behind anything," Brick said, running a hand through his hair. "All we know is it's someone who's furious and who was also Princess's client."

"And was also Mojo's client," Blossom pointed out. "They had to have contact with him, too."

"True," Brick agreed. "They're also a crime syndicate and very wealthy. Mojo sold those vials for a pretty penny, and Princess wouldn't do business with deadbeats."

"True," Blossom agreed. "So now what are we supposed to do?"

"Wait," Brick said with a sigh. "Wait for a sign. And just… think."

"What kind of sign?"

_CRASH!_

Brick and Blossom instinctively dove across the room just as the front window exploded in a rain of glass. Brick cornered himself on the ceiling as Blossom ducked behind the couch. They hid, horrified, waiting for bullets or tranquilizer guns loaded with Chemical Z. But as suddenly as the window shattered, there was silence. Cautiously, Blossom peaked over the end of the couch and Brick dropped to the floor.

"I'd, um, take that as a sign," Brick stammered.

Blossom gazed at the window. The enormous hole allowed the fresh autumn breeze into the room, the leftover glass around it glistening with spider-web-like cracks. She looked around, surveying the damage.

"What just happened?" she asked.

"This."

Brick reached under the coffee table and pulled out a brick, wrapped with a string of tiny pink flowers. Brick handed it to Blossom, and she stared at it. She realized what type of flowers they were – cherry blossoms. Brick snickered.

"Ha. A blossom-covered brick."

Blossom frowned. Truly, if this wasn't a sign, she didn't know what was. She began carefully unwrapping the string of flowers, noticing some cardstock underneath. It slid off the brick and onto the table. There were four pieces all together, all the same size with similar printed designs on each. Blossom tossed the flowers aside and spread out the pieces.

"Playing cards?" Brick whispered.

Playing cards indeed, from a deck that reminded Blossom of the cards Buttercup and Bridie were playing with last night. Each card was from each suit – diamond, heart, clubs, and spades – and each card was a queen. Blossom pondered the significance.

"Holy shit."

Brick eye's widened and sat back into the couch. Blossom looked at him, confused.

"What? What's this mean?"

"So that's who we're dealing with," Brick said nodding his head as if it all made sense.

"Who?" Blossom cried.

"The Royal Flush."

"Who's that?"

***

"The Royal Flush is a wealthy French crime syndicate – a family – run completely by women."

Thirty minutes later, Brick sat in the Professor's lab, along with his brothers and the Powerpuff Girls. The lab was soundproof, and virtually inaccessible to anyone else but them and the Professor. This discussion had to be secret, and clearly anywhere else in the house was off-limits. The Professor volunteered to take Bridie out for ice cream to get her away, despite the warnings from his daughters. He won the argument when he mentioned getting a replacement window and some shatterproof film.

Brick continued.

"It was originally established in 1925 by Martin LeBlageuer, a young, aggressive businessman from Reims, a big city in the Champagne province in France. Wanting to make more money than the government would allow, he came to America and began bootlegging along with some other fellow immigrants. They made a fortune up until Prohibition was repealed in 1933. The LeBlageuer family lied low nearly a decade until Martin passed away and left his assets, including run of the family, to his son David.

David was only ten, but in less than a decade was already making a respectable name for himself amongst his father's peers. He was a criminal mastermind, I'm talking brilliant schemes that may or may not have happened, but the stories remain genius. What made him really fascinating, though, were his legendary card-playing skills. Apparently David never lost a game of blackjack. Ever. Some believe he was a cheat, some believe he was just damn good at counting cards, but most believe he was just that lucky. His friends and associates soon nicknamed him the 'King of Spades,' or simply, 'Spades.' It was all this that inspired him to enter into the gambling business.

By the age of thirty, he established several casinos all over the country, all christened the 'King's Casino.' By age forty, he was rolling in millions every day. Although all of this is possible legit, he had his dad's mogul spirit, and felt that he could make even more money dealing with corrupt politics. He never dealt with anything on a federal level, but he was getting a big cut from more cities than you can possibly imagine.

He did this until two years ago, when his oldest daughter, Colette, challenged her old man to a game of blackjack. She bet that if she won just one game against him, she wanted dibs as the heir of the family fortune. Knowing he couldn't be beat, he took the bet and they played. But in a twist that no one can figure out to this day, Colette _won_. Her father, shocked beyond all belief, dubbed her his official heir right on the spot. Less than a week later, he was assassinated by an unknown assailant. He was 67. His daughter denied any involvement in her father's death, but she happily took the reign immediately.

Colette made a dozen changes. She renamed the family 'The Royal Flush,' probably because it's catchier or something. She also demoted all of her father's previous associates and re-established the chain of command. She nicknamed herself 'Queen of Spades,' and elected three female chairpersons to take the matriarchal thrones of the other suits. Of course, her changes were not welcomed, but any who questioned her were exiled from the family or executed on the spot."

"Sounds more like the Queen of Hearts to me," Bubbles said when Brick finished his lesson.

"No, the Queen of Hearts is her younger cousin Lila Delamer," Brick said. "She runs a brothel called 'Wonderland.'"

"Nice," Butch chuckled. Buttercup smacked him on the arm and folded her arms across her chest.

"Who are the other queens?" she asked.

"Diamonds is a reclusive Italian chick named Gemma Pietra, a good friend of Colette's," Brick explained. "Not a lot is known about her, to be honest. Clubs, though, is Colette's best friend, 18-year-old Evie Strike, an impressive young assassin. All of these women run important aspects of the LeBlageuer business, but after that, not much else is known about them except their involvement with Princess."

"Weapons," Blossom inferred. Brick nodded.

"Why weapons?" Boomer asked, hand resting thoughtfully on his chin.

"Who knows," Brick said with a shrug. "Probably just upgrading to the biggest and best artillery, you know? The Guerellis were interested for a while, too, but realized it may not have been worth the cash."

"And so you think these bitches are after us?" Buttercup asked.

"Maybe not all of us specifically, but most likely me and Brick," Blossom replied. "That's why they tossed a brick and some cherry blossoms through the window. I doubt they're after you guys as much. They only reason they have would be to get to us."

"And we just let our kid—" Butch started.

"And the Professor," Buttercup added.

"—out there alone and unguarded when some stupid bitches might be out to get us?" Butch finished. "The fuck?"

"Look, we can't keep looking over our shoulders every other second," Brick said. "But we really need to be alert until we can take care of them."

"Why should we be afraid of this Royal Flush?" Boomer asked suddenly. "The worst they got is guns with bullets that'll bounce off our skin like popcorn kernels."

Brick repeated his previous explanation on Chemical Z. He added that although he didn't know for sure, he expected they were the ones who bought Mojo Jojo out. Buttercup growled at the idea of losing powers.

"Oh my God, what is this? Last year all over again?" she scoffed.

"You wouldn't lose your powers forever," Brick reminded. "It's temporary. The only danger is that it makes you vulnerable against normal human attack. A gun _would_ kill you. At the same time, it would also make you unable to act how you usually would. You can't super-punch your way out of a team of trained gunmen. You'd just be normal."

"God, who wants to be normal?" Butch laughed.

"It would make things like this less likely to happen," Bubbles retorted. "I don't like this, Blossom."

"None of us do," Blossom said. "But we've got to watch out for ourselves and for each other. We can't let our guard down and we can't let anything get between us until we are sure this is over."

Blossom smiled to herself. She hadn't given a good pep-talk in a while, and strangely, she was inspiring herself. Even though these were dangerous times, she was thrilled with this new sense of purpose. She was made to defend the peace and innocent, and this time it was her loved ones more than anything. Well, associates in the Boys' case. She couldn't comfortably consider them loved ones. Regardless, Blossom was thoroughly ready to protect her family.

A knock sounded from the door up the stairs. The door opened and the Professor called down to them.

"I have ice cream!"

Butch and Buttercup grinned and raced to the stairs. Buttercup turned around before heading upstairs.

"Are we done?"

"Yeah," Brick said.

"Remember, guys," Blossom added. "Constant vigilance."

"Right," Butch said. "Ice cream." He and Buttercup hurried up the stairs. The others got up and made their way after them, Blossom and Bubbles pausing a moment to put the folding chairs away. Bubbles and Boomer headed upstairs, talking quietly amongst themselves, while Brick waited for Blossom to tidy up. Blossom finished and looked at him.

"'Constant vigilance?'" Brick remarked. "Harry Potter?"

"Yes," Blossom said indignantly.

"Clever," Brick said, rolling his eyes.

"Hey, you knew where I got it from," Blossom snickered.

"…Touché." Brick smiled, the first time Blossom noticed him truly smiling… ever. Blossom also noticed how — dare she think it – _pleasant _he looked when he smiled. Blossom blinked away the thought. The two drifted upstairs, Blossom hoping the Professor remembered to get her favorite strawberry ice cream.

***

_ "So you did it?"_ Colette asked calmly over the phone. Strike tossed the leftover cherry blossoms and the 48-card deck into the nearby garbage can.

"Yep," Strike said. "I still think it's dumb, though, letting them know who we are. The red dude knows about us, right?"

"_Of course! That's the point._"

"Why?" Strike demanded. "It ruins the anonymity."

_"I want them to know who they're dealing with, Strike. I want them scared." _

"Whatever, Spades," Strike scoffed. "So now what?"

"_We enter into phase two. It's an easy one, but it has to work out perfectly…"_

Strike listened carefully. Nearby, Ace was on the phone, too, taking down numbers that supposedly would be important soon.


	7. Chapter 7 :: Nabbed

**Chapter 7**

The next morning was intense, no matter how hard everyone tried to act normal. The Professor, who was later filled in on the alert, was suddenly more paternal. He cooked breakfast for everyone, made numerous unnecessary trips to wherever the girls were in the house, and constantly talked to them about random things ("Bubbles, what's the order of the scientific classification of biology? I can never remember the mnemonic; King Philip came over for…" "Blossom, you took psychology, what's the difference between Freudian and Jungian theory?" "Buttercup… your hair looks nice today. What did you do with it?")

Bubbles invited Boomer over, and the two spent most of the day silently planted in front of the television watching cartoons. Butch and Buttercup sat in the kitchen playing hand after hand of blackjack, much to the dismay of an antsy and bored Bridie. Buttercup especially kept her eye on Bridie, never letting her out of her sight. Blossom drifted around the house floating in and out of activities, trying to pacify the Professor, joining in a hand or two, or watching a few Looney Tunes. She was in strangely higher spirits than others, but once again, it was the feeling of purpose that kept things together for her. Later in the afternoon, Brick came over, and Blossom was eager for any further developments.

"Any news?" Blossom asked when she answered the door. Bubbles and Boomer glanced at him, tearing their eyes away from the set for the first time all day. Brick shook his head and plopped into a nearby chair.

"Cartoons?" he said incredulously. Boomer and Bubbles ignored him and stared straight ahead, Bubbles curled up with one arm around her legs, chewing on her fingernails, and Boomer on the opposite end of the couch, arms folded across his chest. Brick's eyes flickered.

"Hm. Tension," he commented. They ignored him again.

"Then how are you?" Blossom asked, sitting in the armchair across from him.

"Terrible," Brick said. "And Jesus, guys, did someone die already?"

"No," Blossom said. "Just… anxious, I believe."

"Huh." Brick stared at Bubbles and Boomer a moment, noticing the large space between them. He smirked. He looked around for the others.

"They're playing cards," Blossom said.

"For how long?" Brick asked.

"Oh, hours…"

"I figured," Brick sighed and turned to the new window behind the television. The Professor had replaced it last night after Brick and Boomer left. Brick nodded in approvable.

"Why, hello there, Brick!" The Professor greeted heartily, coming up from the lab. "What brings you here?" He winked enthusiastically.

"Um, nothing new, sir?" Brick said slowly, hoping not to sound too weirded out.

"Oh, well, good," the Professor said, sounding like this wasn't good news at all. "Well, are you joining us for dinner?"

"Um… I could… I guess…" Brick replied uncertainly.

"Terrific! We'll have everyone for dinner tonight!" The Professor grinned and headed into the kitchen. Blossom could hear him talking to Buttercup, who from the sounds of it was getting quite weary of him.

"I really hope no one is having anybody for dinner," Brick said irritably.

"Come on, Brick. The Professor's just being nice," Blossom scorned.

"I guess so," Brick mumbled. He started smoothing his already perfect hair, looking off to the side. Blossom watched him, wondering why he was so uncomfortable all of a sudden. Then she wondered: was there ever a time that Brick was treated like… family? Mojo Jojo couldn't have been very fatherly, wrapped up in his own affairs. And the Guerellis were as close to family as he could get, but it had to be more formal and business-like than a real home. Blossom began psychoanalyzing him in her head. Maybe that's why he was so devoted to the "family." Maybe he was looking for family – a home. Maybe there was more to him than Blossom gave him credit for. Then again, maybe she was over-thinking it. Maybe she was thinking too much about him.

"Hm," Blossom sniffed.

The hours rolled by, and the monotonous activities continued until dinner. The Professor cooked a huge meal of steak and potatoes, and Bridie, more than happy to stop playing cards, helped set the table. By sunset, everyone was gathered around the table in the first ever Powerpuff/Rowdyruff dinner. Blossom considered how strange the situation was, and she immediately picked up on every strained emotion around the room.

Boomer and Bubbles barely spoke, both focusing mostly on their plates of food (Bubbles had a vegan salad in place of the steak, and seemed very interested in the lettuce). Blossom had no idea whether they had spoken the other day or not, but it was obvious things were still awkward between them. Butch and Buttercup seemed alright, but they kept pestering Bridie.

"Bridie, keep your hair out of your food!"

"Bridie, let me cut up your steak."

"Bridie, don't touch the knife – you'll stab yourself."

It was almost humorous to see Bridie poke at her food irritably with a spoon that Buttercup insisted she use instead of the "sharp" fork. Butch had cut the steak into such tiny pieces, it might as well have been beef mush. Bridie's eyes met with Blossom's, and Blossom smiled sympathetically.

Brick conversed with the Professor, and Blossom was mildly surprised to see how well they got along. At the moment, they were talking politics, and both of them were of course very intelligent, but Brick was much more articulate and convincing in his opinions. The Professor was stumped by some of the thought-provoking questions that he asked, like "when several million want a given person or party in power, but can never elect them because most voters choose only Democrats and Republicans, how can they believe that this is a representative government?" It was a damn good point, and Blossom was impressed.

After dinner, they moved into the living room for some coffee and tea. They made small talk for a while, and Blossom still felt a sense of discomfort, mostly from Brick and between Boomer and Bubbles. Later the Professor asked how Bridie was feeling about school, which was only a few days away.

"I'm soooo excited!" Bridie said, jumping in the air and doing somersaults. "I'm gonna make new friends, and I'm gonna play on the playground, and I heard Ms. Keane was so nice, except also strict if I do something bad."

"Ms. Keane…" the Professor said fondly. "I can't believe she's still teaching."

Then, there was a rapid knock at the door. Everyone jumped, and there was a second where no one moved. Bridie floated back to the couch next to Buttercup, and Bubbles shifted nervously in her seat. Butch took the initiative, though, and got up and answered the door.

"Ayy! Butchie, muh mayn!"

"Holy shit, Arturo?! Is that you?" Butch opened the door wide to reveal a group of young men, one of them shorter with a thin handlebar moustache and pale green skin. Buttercup leapt up.

"Arturo? From the Gangreen Gang?" she spat. Butch whirled around

"No, no, Arturo from the, uh, the old crowd!" he stammered. He glanced back at them.

"Hey, Buttercup. Blossom. Bubbles," Arturo waved casually at the girls. Blossom and Bubbles waved back, confused. Buttercup stepped close to the door, crossed her arms and glared at him.

"Okay, yeah, he was from the Gangreen Gang, but he was my pal a few years back, right, man?" He held his hand up and Arturo high-fived him.

"I heardju were in town, mayn," Arturo said to him in a thick Latin American accent.

"Did you?" Butch said. "Shit, we gotta catch up. Hold on, lemme get my shit together."

"Butch?" Buttercup said quietly.

"Yeah?" Butch turned to her, a glint of horror in his eyes. He smiled nervously.

"Can you excuse us a second?" Buttercup said bitterly to Arturo and his friends. Butch's smiled dropped and he nodded curtly at them before shutting the door. He eyed his girlfriend.

"Yes?"

"Well, it's time to go!" Professor said, jumping out of his seat and heading for his lab. "I've got work to do…"

"Hey, Bridie!" Bubbles said cheerfully. "You should show all of us that new game we were playing upstairs. In the kitchen." She led a worried Bridie out of the room, followed quickly by an equally worried Boomer. Blossom stood up to follow, glancing at Brick.

"Come on, Brick," she said urgently. Brick stayed seated, smirking at Buttercup. He shook his head.

"And miss this? The hell I will."

Blossom glanced at Bubbles, who was peeking from the kitchen doorway expectantly. Blossom sighed and shrugged. She sat on the couch, preparing herself for some major refereeing. Brick grabbed his drink and stared at Butch, ready for the show. Bubbles frowned and turned away.

"What are you doing?" Buttercup asked coolly, taking a few steps away from him.

"I'm going to go out with my friends, maybe have a few drinks, and come home," Butch explained slowly. "That okay?"

"No, actually," Buttercup said. "It's _not_ okay."

"Why not?" Butch demanded.

"Why not? Are you serious?" Buttercup asked indignantly. "There are some nasty people out there ready to attack our family at any moment, and you want to go drinking? You're an idiot!"

"I'll be fine! I'm with my friends…"

"Yeah, your 'friends,' including one of my enemies from the Gangreen Gang," Buttercup spat.

"I was your enemy once, too, come on – get over it."

"Get over it?" Buttercup snapped. "Get over what? The fact that Arturo is a little shit, always has and always will be, and that you have no idea how much of a dumbass you're being? No, I won't 'get over it!'"

"How am I a 'dumbass'?" Butch asked, his voice rising. "Because I want to have some fun and catch up with some old friends? Bullshit!"

"Because you're endangering yourself _and_ your family by going out and getting smashed, Butch! _That's_ bullshit!"

"I'm not doing anything wrong, Buttercup!" Butch exclaimed.

"Yes, you are." Buttercup scoffed.

"No, I'm not!"

"Yes."

"No!"

"Yes, you are, Butch. You're wrong. God, you're always wrong…" Buttercup grumbled.

"Ooo, you're gonna take that?" Brick said with a smile.

"Brick!" Blossomed hissed. "Stay out of it!"

"No," Butch said, a final tone in his voice. "He's right. I'm not gonna take it. Not anymore."

"Excuse me?" Buttercup said, an eyebrow twitching.

Butch took a few steps closer to Buttercup, standing up to his full height. He towered over her, an observation that almost frightened Blossom, and the darkening expression on his face didn't help one bit. He spoke, his voice quivering as he tried desperately to hold back his fury.

"You know what's _really_ bullshit, Buttercup? This. All this. I'm sick of this… this… controlling, overreacting, always-walking-on-fucking-egg-shells life with you! I – can't – do – ANYTHING! I can't take a piss without you freaking out! I can't hang out with friends, because they're all just a bad influence and dumb as hell. I can't drink, because I'll just get drunk and do stupid shit. I can't look at a girl without you thinking I wanna fuck her! I can't do _anything_! Nothing! Nothing without you acting like a royal bitch! And I'm sick of it, babe! And I'm sick of you treating me like shit! I'm done!"

"Oh, really?" Buttercup stared daggers up at him, her hands falling to her sides and curling up into tight fists. "I wouldn't be so fucking quote-unquote 'controlling' if you didn't give me good _reasons_ to be! What happened in New York, Butch? WHAT HAPPENED? How many nights did you stumble home completely wasted and wake up the baby? How many times did your shitty-ass friends come over asking for beer, or money, or weed? I'm a COP, dumbass! Or, better yet, remember when you came home with some bitch's number -- not once -- not twice -- but THREE times? THREE SEPARATE TIMES! Every time you left the house, you came back drunk, stoned, or some stupid variation of SHIT-FACED! What are _you_, Butch? What are you? A fucking frat boy? You can't do that shit anymore, Butch! You've got a kid, and you're with me! You've got responsibilities. Why don't you grow a pair and _grow_ _up_!"

"Grow up? GROW UP?!" Butch didn't even try to hold back anymore. "How old am I, bitch? How old are _we_?! TWENTY-TWO. That's right! Twenty-fucking-two years old, and you expect me to act like a _thirty_-two-year-old deadbeat with a 9-to-5 job or something. I'M TWENTY-TWO. I didn't _ask _to settle down with you. I didn't _ask_ for a baby. I didn't _ask _to be boyfriend-slash-father of the year right now, _if ever_!"

"AND I DID?!" Buttercup cried. "I didn't sign on for any of this shit, either, but it happened. Oops! My bad. At the time, I wasn't exactly thinking about your future daddy skills."

"No, I imagine you were just thinking about some of my other skills; the ones I've never heard complaints about, thankfully," Butch sneered.

"Well, I never worked for NASA, so I try not to complain about failing to launch," Buttercup goaded.

"Oh, low blow," Brick commented. Butch stared at Buttercup a second, aghast. She smirked.

"Well…" Butch began slowly. "Sometimes it's a little difficult to get anywhere with someone who was nothing more than a one-time, last-resort, piece of ass."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Buttercup asked, her voice cracking.

"Oh, I don't know, that I never signed on for anything more than a... than a one-night-stand, maybe?" Butch said. He stumbled a little over his words. He looked away from Buttercup.

"So is that how it is?" Buttercup asked. Her face twitched painfully.

Surprisingly, Butch didn't answer. He took a deep breath, glanced at her once more, and looked away again. Then he turned around and reached for his shoes on the floor near the door. Buttercup chuckled.

"Go ahead. Leave, you coward. But if you do, don't you dare come back," Buttercup said. Butch put his shoes on, stood up, and stepped back over to her. He looked her straight in the eyes.

"Why would I want to?"

Then he turned back around and headed towards the door. Buttercup's eyes flickered. She took a step towards him.

"You said you loved me," she whispered.

Butch opened the door. His friends were hanging around the sidewalk away from the house. He took one last look at Buttercup.

"Oops."

He slammed the door behind him.

"DADDY!"

Buttercup whirled around. Bridie shot across the living room right past her mom towards the front door. Blossom leapt off the couch just in time to catch her niece by the ankle. Bridie screamed out, clawing her tiny hands at the door.

"DADDY! NO! COME BACK!"

"Bridie. Sweetie, it's okay. He'll be back, calm down. Bridie…" Blossom struggled to soothe her, looking back at Buttercup. Buttercup stared at the door, mouth hung slightly, eyes wide. She blinked, not believing what just happened. Blossom cleared her throat, and Buttercup shook herself out of her stupor. She gulped and hurried towards Bridie.

"Come on, we're going upstairs," Buttercup said quietly, reaching for her daughter. Bridie shrieked.

"NO! LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Buttercup grabbed at her, but Bridie fought against her and Blossom, and eventually she slipped away from them and rocketed towards her room, exploding in a fit of tears. Blossom and Buttercup helplessly stared after her.

"Wow," Brick said suddenly. "It's like a real soap opera."

Buttercup flashed him the deadliest look Blossom had ever seen. Without taking her eyes off Brick, she reached over and ripped the door open, crushing the handle in her fist. She spoke between clenched teeth.

"Get out of my house."

Brick set his mug on the table and stood up. He licked his lips, ready to say something snappy.

"Get – out."

Then, shockingly, Brick closed his mouth, nodded at Blossom, and floated out the front door. Buttercup whipped her neck to the kitchen door, glaring at Boomer. He visibly gulped and zoomed out the door after his brother. Buttercup closed the door, flipping the lock. She turned to her sisters. The deathly glare had fallen into a new strange expression. It twisted as she slid down the door onto the floor, her eyes closing and her lips tightening. She opened her eyes again, tears falling down her cheeks. She took a shuddering breath.

"He wasn't supposed to leave."

"Come on, cheer up," Blossom said. She knelt down and helped her sister up. "He'll be back."

"I don't know about this time," Buttercup said dejectedly as she stood up.

"Don't say that!" Bubbles exclaimed, rushing to her sister's side. "You don't know that."

"I don't… I don't know if I want him back anyway," Buttercup said bitterly, wiping away her tears and trying to pull herself back together.

"Don't worry about it right now," Bubbles said. She looked up at the upstairs hallway. "Bridie."

***

Bridie popped a basketball with her bare hands, tossing the pitiful plastic remains on the floor. She wiped her nose on her already soaked sleeve, and took another staggering breath. It always seemed to be like this. They fought, mom or dad left the house, and Bridie always ended up crying in her bedroom.

They always fought. Sometimes it wasn't so bad, because usually they'd end up kissing afterwards and everything was okay. But times like these were just painful, and this time hurt worse. Bridie relived the moment once more, sniffling as she picked at a loose thread on her jeans. Mom said if he left not to come back. Dad said "Why would I want to?"

What about Mom? What about Aunt Blossom and Aunt Bubbles, or Uncle Boomer? Or Grandpa? What about Bridie? Wouldn't he want to come home for her? Didn't he love her? Didn't he love Mom?

Bridie looked out one of the three circle windows of the bedroom. Off in the distance was the city, with its blinking colorful lights that were brighter than the stars. Back in New York, she and her parents lived amongst the lights, amongst the stars, and anytime Dad left, he never went past the lights. He had to be somewhere in downtown Townsville. Maybe if Bridie found him, she could ask him if he still loved her, if he still loved Mom. Maybe Bridie could make him come back home.

Without a second thought, Bridie hurried to one of the windows. She lifted the round pane of glass and wiggled the screen open. She slipped through the window, carefully replacing the pane behind her. The cool autumn wind rushed past her face as she took off towards the stars, leaving nothing but a flash of sea-green behind her.

***

Strike clenched the wheel of her cheap GEO Metro, her eyes focused on the slender cell phone on her lap. She sniffed anxiously, as she waited for the signal. Once she got the okay, she had to send her own signal. Ace sat in the passenger's seat next to her, flicking some cigarette ash out the window. He stared ahead down the block, through his cat-eye sunglasses, right at the moonlit home of the Powerpuff Girls. He was thoroughly bored by the situation.

"Come _on_," Strike cried. "Vibrate, you piece of shit!"

"It's a phone," Ace commented. "You want it to ring, unless you wanted something else." He chuckled to himself, eyeing the phone nestled between her legs.

"It's on vibrate, stupid," Strike said bitterly. "I hate ringtones."

"Hm."

"God! Arturo's taking forever!" Strike grumbled. "The monster is probably getting restless, too."

"Do we still need the monster, with Brick and Boomer out of the picture? We didn't count on them leaving, but this might work better…" Ace said thoughtfully.

"Doesn't matter," Strike said. "We still need the girls out to leave the kid and Gramps home alone. So we still need the monster, though I guess with only the girls left, yeah, it might work out better now."

Strike huffed and grabbed her phone. She quickly typed and sent a message, paused a second, then shut it. She stared at it expectantly. After a few seconds, sure enough, it vibrated. She flipped it open and read the reply.

"Dammit," Strike said. "'Not yet.' Ughhh!"

Ace rolled his eyes and took another drag on his cigarette. He looked back at the house, mildly curious as to what was going on in there. He never really saw the Powerpuff Chateau until tonight, and he could feel a twinge of guilt knowing that he was partially responsible for causing the upset in the household. There had to be some, especially according to the plan; he knew that Buttercup would be upset after a fight with Butch, hopefully distracted enough to not pay attention to their daughter – Bridie, Ace remembered. And with Butch and his brothers out of the picture, once the monster was released in the city, Buttercup and her sisters would have to drop everything to hurry off and fight the monster. This would leave the house unprotected, and Strike and Ace could jump in and abduct the girl. The Professor wasn't enough collateral as Bridie, and both of them were too much work for the Flushes. Ace and Strike would take care of him later. Despite how much Ace was getting paid, and despite his bitter feelings towards the girls (especially Buttercup), he actually felt bad. Ace didn't exactly have a clean record, but he was just a jerk! He admitted this, even embraced it. Nevertheless, kidnapping a little girl for a mafia revenge plot was a bit more than he was comfortable with, especially if that little girl was for all intents and purposes a Powerpuff Girl. Ace knew better – if the plan failed at all, he and the Flushes would pay dearly.

Ace suddenly noticed something: the center window of the Chateau was moving. Ace narrowed his eyes, and he realized a person was slipping under the screen. It floated easily in the air as it replaced the screen and turned to look down the street.

"Evie…"

"Ace! It's either 'Strike' or 'Queen!'" Strike corrected.

"What's that?" Ace asked, ignoring her comment and pointing at the floating figure. Strike looked ahead, and she and Ace saw the figure zoom off towards the city in a flash of sea-green light. Strike grinned.

"That, Ace, is the girl," she answered. "I remember that streak from the baseball game." Strike tossed her cell aside and started the car. She revved the gas menacingly. "And you know what? Maybe we won't need the monster after all."

***

Bridie flew towards the city, and before she knew it, ended up right above the park where she and her family played baseball only yesterday. She stopped, hovering yards above the blue-green field. It strangely felt like a long time ago, and she had a sad, sinking feeling that it might not happen again, at least not soon. She drifted to the ground, the long grass tickling her feet. Bridie then realized in her haste she forgot her shoes, but she didn't mind. It felt nice to stand barefoot in the park. She kicked a clod of dirt, it crumbling as it rolled across the ground.

Bridie sighed and looked up at the city. She'd made it this far, but admittedly, she had no idea where to start looking for her father. He could've been anywhere, really. She also wondered if she was technically allowed anywhere her dad could be – she was too young to go to a bar. Her mission already aborted, she sat down and began plucking at the blades of grass.

Strike and Ace pulled up next the sign emblazoned with "Townsville Community Park." They both searched through the fields and saw Bridie, gloomily plucking grass and tossing it aside. Strike laughed.

"This was too easy," she said. "You think Mommy and Daddy taught her not to talk to strangers?"

Strike hopped out of the car and headed towards the little girl. Ace rolled his eyes and followed suit, slamming the door behind him and jabbing his hands into his coat pockets. He shivered, the autumn air suddenly much colder than usual.

"Hey, sweetie!" Strike said, her voice uncharacteristically sweet. Bridie jumped and turned around, her eyes wide and fearful. Ace shivered again, unsure if it was the wind or that voice.

"Bridie, right?" Strike asked. "Do you remember me? Or Ace?"

Ace nodded shortly. Bridie looked at him warily. She shook her head and scooted away from Strike.

"I don't know who you are," Bridie said quietly. "What do you want? I'll… I'll fight you…"

She stood up, giving then a surprisingly threatening look, one that Ace recognized easily. He smirked. Strike giggled, and knelt down in front of Bridie.

"Bridie, remember? We ran into your mom and dad at the store yesterday," she said. Bridie winced. It _was_ yesterday, wasn't it? She then remembered the green man, and Mom and Dad did run into him. She remembered seeing him when she was asking for the baseball gear… Mom didn't seem too happy to see him. Bridie looked at him again.

"Huh."

"We're old friends, your ma and me," Ace said smoothly.

"Okay…"

"Hey, honey, what are you doing out here?" Strike asked. "It's cold out here. And where are your shoes?! Does your mom know you're here? Your dad?"

Bridie bit her lip.

"I don't know where my dad is," she whispered. She looked toward the city, then back at Strike and Ace. Maybe they knew where her dad was.

"What happened?" Strike asked. "Do you need help?"

"Do you know where he is?" Bridie asked Ace, ignoring Strike completely. "My dad? He went and hung out with another guy that had green skin. He was short. He had a mustache—"

"Oh-ho, you mean Arturo? Was that his name?" Ace laughed. Bridie shrugged her shoulders, but kept looking at him with the most heartfelt look of longing a five-year-old could muster. Ace almost lost his cool – she just looked too innocent. Adorable. She really was the spitting image of her mom, save for the longer black hair and blue-green eyes. Ace's smile faltered a moment, but he cleared his throat and continued.

"Well, if it's Arturo, I might know where to find them," Ace said finally. Bridie grinned, and happily jumped in the air. Strike flinched, almost forgetting the girl could fly.

"Can you take me?" Bridie asked. She started begging in midair. "Oh, please, please, _please_ say you will!"

"Sure, no problem," Ace chuckled.

"Ohhh, thank you, sir!" Bridie said. She did a somersault. "Thank you!"

"Come on, follow me," Ace turned around and started for the car, Bridie zooming up close behind. Strike stood up and hurried past them. She got in the driver's seat and grabbed something from the glove box. Ace opened the door for Bridie, and she floated in the backseat. Ace shut the door, got in the front seat, and looked expectantly at Strike.

"So where are we going?" Bridie asked, buckling her seatbelt. Strike flicked something out of her hand and turned in her seat. She smirked.

"We're going to my place."

Then she stabbed Bridie in the thigh with a syringe.

Bridie cried out and clutched her thigh as the pain shot through her leg like lightning bolts. Her eyes fluttered, her head beginning to swim and her vision blurring at the edges. She saw Strike, smiling darkly to herself. Bridie sobbed. Then she saw Ace, or at least his eyes, looking at his reflection in the visor mirror. He blinked, staring straight ahead. Bridie sobbed again. Ace's eyes looked up to her, his eyebrows flickering sadly. He almost seemed… sorry.

Then she saw black.


	8. Chapter 8 :: The Queen of Spades

**Chapter 8**

Blossom, Bubbles, and Buttercup stood outside their old bedroom. Buttercup rubbed her eyes, Blossom's hand on her shoulder, as Bubbles gently knocked on the door.

"Bridie?"

No answer. She knocked on the door again.

"Bridie? Sweetie? Are you okay?" Bubbles jiggled the handle – it was locked. She knocked again, a little harder.

"Bridie. Open the door."

"Forget it," Buttercup said. "She's either asleep or ignoring you. We'll try again later."

"Bridie!" Bubbles called, rapping on the door once more. She shrugged and shook her head. She frowned.

"Where are we gonna sleep?" she asked, turning to her sisters.

"I don't care," Buttercup said. "Let's just… go in the other room…"

Blossom led the way to the guest room, and Buttercup immediately collapsed on the bed. Bubbles sat at the foot of the bed, her arms wrapped around her knees. Blossom knelt next to Buttercup, her hand still on her shoulder.

"He'll be back," Blossom said soothingly. "I imagine this isn't the first time—"

"No," Buttercup said firmly. She grabbed the pillow and buried her face in it. She spoke again, her voice muffled. "I hate 'em. 'E be'er no' come back or I'll kill 'im."

"That's the spirit," Blossom said cheerfully. She looked at Bubbles, hoping she would add some console. Bubbles smiled weakly. She slowly rolled to her side and lay on the bed. Blossom sighed and patted Buttercup on the head. She slipped off the bed and turned off the light. She drifted back over and curled up on the other side of the bed.

The three lay on the bed silently for a while. After a few minutes, Blossom heard Buttercup's soft snores. Blossom sighed again, and she rolled over to face Bubbles. She nudged her sister carefully on the head. Bubbles looked up at her, her blue eyes shining in the moonlight.

"Think she'll be okay?" Blossom whispered, eyeing Buttercup. Bubbles shrugged.

"Have we ever had to deal with post-break-up Buttercup?" she asked. Blossom chuckled and shook her head.

"Hm," Blossom smiled sadly. "So much for not letting anything get between us."

"It'll work out," Bubbles said matter-of-factly. She smiled back, and she rolled over away from her sister. Blossom's smile faded.

"I hope so."

Blossom heard the distant whir of a car engine. It stopped, the engine still running for a moment or two. Then it whirred again and sped off, audibly passing the house. Blossom wondered – hoped – that maybe it was Butch or something. She listened for footsteps, or the front door opening… Nothing. Blossom sniffled, dejected.

She really did hope things would work out.

***

"Was that necessary?" Ace questioned as he and Strike whizzed past the Powerpuff Chateau. Ace's stomach churned violently, and he tried his best not to look in the rearview mirror. He already knew what would happen later.

"The tape?" Strike asked. "Of course we need the tape. I don't think we needed the fucking calling card, but—"

"No," Ace said. He gestured back at Bridie, unconscious in the backseat. "Did we have to drug her?"

"Yes!" Strike replied, almost indignantly. "She can fly! And she probably does other shit. No, her awake is a liability, and we can't afford it."

Despite himself, Ace glanced in the mirror at the shrinking image of the Chateau, and then he glanced at the tiny sleeping girl in the back. He sighed.

"Besides, it'll be easier to give her to Jack," Strike added. "Then our work is done. We go back to the hole and sleep. Then maybe tomorrow night, we can celebrate or something. What do you say?"

"Hmm…" was all Ace would give her.

They drove a couple miles past the outskirts of Townsville. They reached a wheat field, near the large river that divided the city and the neighboring town of Citysville. Strike pulled over and immediately sent a text message from her cell. She waited a second, and it vibrated. Strike nodded.

"Jack's on his way," she said. She shut her phone and looked at Ace. "Well, it sucks I didn't get to off anyone."

"Yeah…" Ace pulled out his cigarettes, quickly lighting one and inhaling deeply. Strike eyed him. She changed tactics.

"We can celebrate tonight, you know…" she said, leaning back against the car door and dropping her legs on Ace's lap. He looked at her. He frowned. Strike smiled knowingly.

"You know, it's kinda funny," she said, tapping her foot on Ace's arm. "Your name's 'Ace,' and you're my 'Ace.' And Jack's name is 'Jack,' and he's Colie's 'Jack.' Get it? Ace and Jack? Dude, I wish he was _my_ Jack, because then I could say that I have the Ace and Jack to my Queen. Ha!"

"Hilarious." Ace stared out the window. He took another drag off his cigarette.

"God, you're no fun," Strike exclaimed kicking him lightly and staring up at the ceiling. Ace ignored her, caught up in his own thoughts.

After about a half hour, another car pulled up near theirs. It flashed its headlights three times. Strike, who had been dozing, awoke and squinted out the window. Ace readjusted his mirror.

"He's here!" Strike jumped up and got out of the car. The other car, much flashier and luxurious-looking than Strike's, hummed quietly as a tall, thin, balding man exited the vehicle. He wore an all-black leisure suit, large shades, and a Rolex as flashy and luxurious as his car. The watch ticked, the hands slowly spinning over a white background with a single black spade.

"Evening, Jack," Strike said cheerfully. Jack's lip twitched – a smile. Strike opened the back door of her car and pulled out Bridie, struggling a bit under the weight. She handed the child's limp body to Jack. He took her, struggling even more under her weight. He took a few careful steps back to his car, Strike rushing past him to open it. He slipped Bridie in, breathing heavily as he shut the door. He pushed past Strike to the driver's seat.

"Remember to use the Z generously with this one," Strike said to him. He slammed the door behind him, looking up at her from the window. Strike leaned on the door.

"So where ya goin'?" she asked. Jack's eyebrows furrowed above his sunglasses. He put the car into reverse, keeping his foot on the brake. He pulled off his sunglasses, to reveal his big, rodent-like eyes.

"You know, Clubs, if Spades didn't tell you, obviously you weren't supposed to know," he said with a smirk – a real smile.

"Well, I figured… she'd, um, have, uh, you tell me," Strike stammered, picking at some non-existent dirt under her nail.

"Oh, Evie," Jack chuckled. "One day you'll grow up and realize that you're a little girl trying to play big girl games."

Jack pressed a button on the door, and Strike stepped back, the smile on her face disappearing and her lip curling with menace. The window zipped up, and Jack pulled away. He adjusted the gear again, and turned away towards Citysville. Strike huffed and headed back to her car. She tore open the door and fell into her seat. Ace watched her, mildly concerned, as she angrily twisted the key in the ignition and stomped on the accelerator.

"You okay?"

"No," Strike whipped the car backwards, stopped, then fumbled to change the gear. "I've got a lot of pent-up aggression and you're gonna help me get rid of it." She stomped on the accelerator once more and they took off back to Townsville.

***

Blossom was the first to wake up, believe it or not. It was just past dawn, and having barely slept at all, Blossom figured it was safe to finally get up. She floated out of bed, careful not to awaken her sisters, and headed out of the room. She stopped at her bedroom, listening carefully for her niece… Nothing. She was probably still asleep. Blossom headed downstairs to make some coffee.

It was too early for even the Professor to be up, so Blossom started the coffee and headed to the living room to the front door. She thought to herself how nice it would be to welcome her father with a cup o' Joe and his usual morning paper. It had been years since she did something nice like this for him, and perhaps it was the current drama that inspired her to do so. She smiled, briskly rubbing her arms for warmth before opening the door…

Blossom stared below her. There was definitely no newspaper; however, there was VHS tape, with a small toy horse and a single playing card.

"Oh, shit."

A flash of pink, and Blossom slammed herself against the bedroom door. She burst through, the door splintering beneath her onto the fluffy pink carpet. Blossom searched through her room, under the beds, in the closet, in the bathroom…

"BRIDIE!"

***

Buttercup sat in the armchair, trembling in the Professor's arms with her head hidden behind her arms. Bubbles sat on the floor next to them, her hand grasping her sister's. Blossom paced the floor by the front door, anxiously waiting for Brick and Boomer to show up. They couldn't watch the tape without them – they at least needed Brick. He knew who was behind this, and he could tell what to do about the woman behind the playing card attached to the tape.

There was a quick knock at the door. Blossom jumped and almost ripped it off its hinges opening it. Brick hurried in, followed by Boomer, and he hopped right into the moment.

"So you woke up, found the tape, went into Bridie's room, and she was gone," Brick said.

"Yes," Blossom said. She handed them each a cup of coffee and beckoned them to sit on the couch. Boomer sat, but Brick paced the floor in front of the coffee table, in perfect Blossom fashion. Blossom stood by her family. "Then I woke them up and told them what happened. Then I called you."

"So you haven't watched it yet!?" Brick asked, staring at her incredulously.

"No!" Blossom said. "I thought you'd want to be there, so you can help us."

Blossom's hands fell to her hips. She eyed him. Brick stared at her, his face twitching strangely. His expression softened.

"Uh, yeah. I would like to be there... Here..." He smoothed a wrinkle in his dark red dress shirt. "So, where is it?"

"Right there," Blossom pointed to the table, where the tape, horse toy, and card each lie next to each other. Brick grabbed the card and examined it. He smirked.

"Hm. Queen of Spades," he commented.

"We knew that," Blossom said irritably. "And a horse?"

"Godfather reference?" Boomer croaked. His voice cracked with exhaustion. He took a sip of coffee as Brick shook his head.

"Clever, but no," he said with a smirk. "Bridle. Bridie. It represents her."

Buttercup's shoulders shook tremendously. Brick noticed this, and he cleared his throat, quickly changing the subject. He picked up the tape.

"So all that leaves is the tape," he said. "Where's the VCR?"

"Downstairs," the Professor said. "I have my old one hooked up."

With that, all of them got up and headed downstairs. Brick caught sight of Buttercup, her eyes bloodshot and her cheeks puffy and red. He chuckled to himself – ten years ago he'd give anything to see her cry. Now he actually – is it possible? – felt sorry for her. Though it could've been that she had the absolute deadliest face on the planet, with her eyebrows low and her teeth bared with every breath. There was no way he'd mess with that, even at his most aggressive.

Everyone got downstairs and settled in a folding chair. The Professor turned on the small television and the VCR, and Brick popped in the tape. Remote control in hand, he sat down. He glimpsed at Buttercup.

"Um… do you wanna…?" He handed the remote to Buttercup. She raised her head and turned that ferocious face to him. The dark red hairs on the back of Brick's neck stood on end – he nodded his head and pressed "play."

The screen sparked with black and white fuzz, and the black screen faded in. Then the picture dissolved to a single desk chair in a gray office, a fern plant on the right. In the chair sat a young woman, older than the girls and the boys, but nowhere near thirty. She had long light brown hair that spiraled softly down her chest, over her blue-gray business suit. She had heavily lined drooping lids over large, beautiful brown eyes, and wide, plump, ruby red lips that any Hollywood starlet would die for. She smiled, her perfect, porcelain-white teeth glistening in the cool artificial light; a smile that could cut glass as fast as it could melt your heart.

This – this was the Queen of Spades.

"_Bonjour, mes amis_!" her voice cut through the speakers, reverberating with her thick French accent. Then, her accent changed."Good morning! I would hope that the brisk autumn morning was treating you well, but given the circumstances, I'd think you were monsters if you did."

She smiled again.

"As you've noticed by now, your daughter – someone's daughter – has been kidnapped, by paid associates of yours truly. Let me assure you now that she is alive and well, and believe it or not, I have no intentions of hurting her… yet."

"Bitch." Buttercup seethed in her seat.

"See, I had originally planned to have two of you, er, _destroyed_ after the incarceration of Princess Morbucks, who I had entrusted with a very large sum of money in return for a very large shipment of weapons. She had a promising catalog, and I was very excited to see my order, but lo and behold, some of you had her taken care of before I could get my things.

"But, because killing you would merely give me pleasure and not solve my financial issues, I decided a new plan of attack was in order. I have your girl, and in return, I want my money that you are responsible for losing."

There was an eerie silence. Boomer shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Buttercup winced, her left leg beginning to shake.

"I'm patient, so I won't give you a time limit. Besides, I think you'll be acting in orderly fashion anyway, so why bother? All I want is the sum I lost, plus some additional damages and interest fees."

"How much?" Blossom asked herself.

"3.7 million dollars and twenty-four cents." The Queen replied.

"Holy shit!"

"What?!"

"No!"

Everyone cried out, outraged. Everyone but Buttercup, who gripped her seat so hard the metal bent between her fingertips. The Queen shifted in her seat, her voice becoming more business-like and fast-paced.

"When you are ready to pay, I want you to call the number on the pony and we'll arrange a meeting time and place. And for the record, no, I don't have her, because I know you'd just be crashing into my casino and causing a ruckus and I literally cannot afford that. She's somewhere around the country with my personal assistant. Only my sisters and I have that information, and no amount of _persuasion_ will get me to tell you where she is unless you have _mon argent_.

"So, let me remind you your girl's safe, she's okay, killing her would lose me more money and _I don't want that_, so, yeah. Gimme a ring when you're ready to gimme my money. If I start to get impatient, I'll let you know. _Bonne chance!_ Good luck! _Bonsoir! _Good night! _Et vive la victoire_!"

She flashed her smile once last time, and the video shut off. There was another long silence as everyone soaked this in. Brick rubbed his temples thoughtfully, and Blossom hurried and took the tape out of the player, shutting off the VCR and TV afterwards. Almost everyone looked at Brick, all except Buttercup. Buttercup stared ahead at the TV, eyes narrow and hateful, as if the Queen would pop out at any moment and Buttercup would take her down right then and there.

"So what are we gonna do?" 

"I'm going to kill her."

With one murderous cry, Buttercup shot up, and immediately Blossom and Bubbles jumped on the scene, both grabbing each of her arms and attempting to calm her down. Buttercup fought against them, each outcry more bloodthirsty, and more helpless than the last. The Professor stood aside, patiently waiting for the outburst to resolve itself. Brick and Boomer sat watching, aghast, unsure of what to do.

"I'M GONNA KILL HER! I'M GONNA FUCKING KILL—"

"BUTTERCUP! CALM! DOWN!" Blossom stepped in front of her and looked her sister straight in the eye. Buttercup growled and stared back at her, tears welling up in her eyes, but not quite falling. Blossom stared her down, silently urging Buttercup to get a hold of herself. Buttercup's expression faltered and instead turned into a look of pure anguish, begging her sister to just let her commit murder already. Blossom stood her ground, and miraculously, in moments, Buttercup fell back to the ground, defeated. Bubbles helped her sit back in her chair.

"So," Blossom continued. "What are we _really_ gonna do?"

"Well," Brick started. "We can't just go find Spades and beat the shit out of her. She won't tell us where Bridie is otherwise, especially if she's dead."

"She's lying," Buttercup said bitterly.

"No," Brick said with a laugh. "If there's anything a businessman, or woman, won't lie about it's how much something will cost them. She's right – us busting up her casino is worth twice as much as what we owe her. It isn't worth it to her."

"Okay, fine," Blossom said. "Then what do we do? We don't _have_ 3.7 million dollars, and there's no legal way we'd get it."

"Who said we had to be legal?" Boomer questioned.

"Boomer!" Bubbles cried.

"I'm a Rowdyruff Boy, remember?" Boomer reminded her bitterly.

"I don't care what you are, we are not stealing money," Bubbles concluded.

"Okay, well that beats my plans," Brick said. "I'm stumped."

"That's it!?" Blossom was shocked. "That was your only answer? Steal the money?! What kind of solution is that?"

"You think of a better one, genius!" Brick said, folding his arms across his chest.

"Really?"

All of them suddenly turned to the Professor, who had been standing aside watching them curiously. He pulled out his pipe, lit it, and took a deep puff. He stepped in front of Brick and furrowed his eyebrows sternly.

"You are the only one with real experience in the underground crime syndicate. You are a born and raised hoodlum, with full knowledge of the illicit and villainous, unlawful and vulgar. You deal with mob bosses and criminal masterminds everyday – you were _created_ by one! – and you have the mental capabilities exactly like my daughter Blossom. You are as conniving as you are sharp, and as connected as thread in a spider web, and the only solution to a hostage situation that you can come up with is a robbery?"

Brick stared at the Professor in complete terror. Boomer sat back against the chair, hoping to God he wasn't next. For the first time all day, Buttercup cracked a smile. Blossom and Bubbles exchanged a quick smile. Brick ran hand through his hair and recomposed himself.

"Perhaps…" he started slowly. "…perhaps we should meet with my boss and ask for advice. He would know better than I would what to do."

"Very good," said the Professor with a short puff from his pipe. "So what are you waiting for?"

"To Chicago it is," Brick said with militant nod. The Professor turned away, giving a furtive wink at his daughters.

"Hey, wait," Buttercup said suddenly. "Can I just… can I just go lay down a little longer before we go?"

"Whatever you need," Blossom said, smiling. "This is for you, anyway."

"Thanks," Buttercup said with a yawn. "I'm just…"

"We know," Bubbles said, patting her sister on the back. "Come on."

Bubbles led Buttercup upstairs, followed by Boomer and Brick. Blossom lingered behind with the Professor, putting the chairs aside. It was eerily reminiscent of the other night when they first learned about the Royal Flush family. Blossom looked proudly at the Professor. She waited until they were all upstairs before she spoke.

"Nice job," she goaded. "I don't think Brick has ever been told off like that before."

"It's a dad thing, I believe," the Professor said. "Sometimes they need a swift kick in the ego to push them to their full potential."

Blossom grinned, and they headed upstairs after the others. Buttercup was already in her room, and Bubbles was pouring more coffee for Brick and Boomer. Brick looked somewhat displeased as he took a sip from his mug. Blossom grabbed a glass, and the Professor put his own in the sink.

"Let me go check on her," he said to them before heading upstairs. Brick watched him, eyes like slits, as he left the room.

"I have to make a phone call," Brick said, pulling out his cell phone and hurrying out the back door.

Blossom sat at the table next to Bubbles and Boomer. She sighed and stirred some sugar into her coffee. Bubbles played with her steeping teabag as Boomer looked away and rubbed the back of his neck.

Meanwhile, the Professor peeked through the splintered remains of the girls' bedroom door. Inside was Buttercup, sitting on her old bed and staring at hunk of bumpy orange plastic. The Professor stepped in, Buttercup acknowledging him with a tilt of her head. He took a seat next to her.

"I had this basketball since I was born," Buttercup laughed. "Either Blossom accidentally popped it, or Bridie did on purpose."

"Either or," the Professor said. Buttercup sighed, smiling. Then, it disappeared.

"I fucked up," she said. "Everything. It's all my fault."

"No, it isn't," the Professor said firmly. "Things like this happen."

"If I didn't fight with Butch all the time, things would be better. If I didn't tell him not to come back, he might be here. If I didn't—"

"No," The Professor put his arm around Buttercup and pulled her close. Buttercup shuddered, clenching her teeth and clutching the piece of plastic.

"It's not your fault," the Professor repeated. "And it's no time for 'if's' anyway. It's time to rest, then it's time to fix it. You know what you need to do. You need to find Bridie and save her."

"You make it sound so easy," Buttercup said. She sat up. "Professor… she's… she's gone. My… my baby. My daughter. Gone. And my… her dad. Her father. He's gone, too. I lost them. I should've—"

"You should've what?" the Professor asked. Buttercup didn't answer. The Professor continued. "You did the best you could. And they're not _gone_. Look, I'm scared, too. And I'm worried. Worried beyond all belief. This is my _granddaughter_ we're talking about, after all! The beautiful child of my even more beautiful daughter. I'm… I'm terrified. But if years of raising three super hero girls have taught me anything it's that you're all quite the handful and that you all can save anything.

"And you, Buttercup, have the strength and determination to save her, maybe more than both your sisters. You'll get through this – we all will. I know it."

Buttercup embraced her father, trying her damnedest not to cry. The Professor held her back, and then he gently pecked her on the forehead and stood up. He grasped her hand tight, smiling at her tenderly. Buttercup smiled, despite herself, and squeezed his hand. The Professor squeezed back. Then he let go and left, ducking through the doorway and heading downstairs.

Buttercup held the tattered piece of basketball. She couldn't take this. She couldn't take it anymore. No matter what the Professor said, she still couldn't accept anything otherwise. This was her fault. All her fault. Buttercup inhaled sharply. The pain… the pain in her chest… like a deep, gaping hole, stinging with the salt of her unshed tears and throbbing with the blood in her heart, both trying in vain to fill the void… She exhaled, her whole body shaking. She'd had enough.

"She's okay?" Blossom asked as the Professor entered the kitchen.

"As okay as she's gonna be," he said miserably. Blossom frowned and Bubbles wiped away a few escaped tears.

Brick came back, snapping his phone shut and slipping it back in his pocket.

"Well?" Blossom asked.

"Tomas will fill him in when he gets up and when he's available, he'll give us a call," Brick said. "We have to leave as soon as we can."

"Alright," Blossom said. She turned to the Professor. "We'll need you here, in case anything else comes up on this end…"

"Of course," the Professor said with a nod. "Am I safe here?"

"As safe as you're gonna be at the moment," Brick said. "They don't want you anyway. They want us and the money. You're safe here for now."

"So everyone is available for this, right?" Blossom asked, looking around. "No one made plans, right?"

"Plans?" Boomer asked with a laugh. "What're those?"

"Good," Blossom said. "Then it's crucial that we stay together. We'll need each of us here with one another ready to fight at any moment. Are we ready?"

"Of course!" Bubbles said.

"Yeah," Boomer agreed.

"I don't exactly have a choice," Brick said

_CRASH!_

All of them looked up, then at each other. Bubbles gasped.

"Buttercup."

Blossom and Bubbles leapt up and zipped upstairs, the Professor close behind, and Boomer and Brick reluctantly taking the rear. They rushed to the bedroom, where the center round window stood wide open, shattered around the edge. Blossom and Bubbles hurried to the window and looked out to see a small lime green streak headed towards the city. Bubbles gasped again.

"Buttercup!"

She reached out to hop out the window and chase after her. Blossom grabbed her arm.

"No!" she said. Bubbles whirled around. "We have to stay together."

"But Buttercup!" Bubbles cried out.

"She'll be back," Blossom said. "You know her. This was too much."

Bubbles sighed and stepped away. She nodded. The Professor sat on the bed and took a long, long drag on his pipe. Brick and Boomer, who just couldn't bring themselves to go into the girls' room, stood at the doorway, confused.

"Um, where'd she go?" Boomer asked carefully.

"Where else?" Bubbles said. "To cry."

Blossom looked out the window again, the lime green streak long gone, hidden amongst the distant dark shadows of the city. Time after time, when things just got too much for her, Buttercup would take off toward the city, always to be back in time for dinner. She'd done this ever since she was younger. Blossom blinked and looked down at the broken window. How many things had fallen apart in the past few days? The front window, the bedroom door, the bedroom window… Buttercup and Butch's relationship, Buttercup in general, Blossom's pride and dignity…

Suddenly, a light flashed down the block. Blossom blinked, and the light zoomed down the street and came to halt in front of the house. Blossom thought for a moment that Buttercup was back already, but that couldn't be possible. The only other person it could be was…

"Hm. Butch."

"Butch?" Bubbles said. She huddled next to Blossom and peered out the window. Sure enough, down below scratching his head and standing on the sidewalk in front of the house was Butch. He stared straight ahead warily, perhaps wondering if he should bother coming in. Blossom was about to shout something at him before—

"How dare you?" Bubbles yelled. Butch jumped and looked up. "How dare you show your face here after what you said to her!"

"Oh, hey, it is Butch!" Brick said happily. Dragging Boomer by the arm with him, he shot down the stairs and out the front door. Blossom huffed, glancing behind her about to follow, but Bubbles was smarter and leapt out the window after him. She beat the boys to him by a split second.

"YOU JERK!"

Bubbles leapt on him and jabbed him right in the face. Butch stumbled backwards, falling onto the grass holding his face. Bubbles folded her arms across her chest and glowered at him. Brick and Boomer stood back, appalled. Blossom rolled her eyes and leapt out the window after them, taking the spot next to Boomer. Back in the house, the Professor ran out of the room and hurried outside.

"You say a bunch of awful things, you walk out right when she says not to, and then you have the guts to come back the next day! And now she's gone! Bridie's gone—"

"Br-Bridie?" Butch stuttered, spitting out a mouthful of blood.

"Yeah, you missed everything you rotten piece of scum!" Bubbles yelled. She snorted and spit on the ground in front of him. She turned around and stomped over to the Professor muttering, "You make me sick."

Brick stepped over and helped his brother up. Butch wiped his mouth, pushed Brick away, and stared at Bubbles.

"Gone? Who's gone?"

"Butch," Blossom stepped forward. She bit her lip, hating to break the news once more. "Bridie…"

"What?" Butch's eyes widened, his jaw clenching with every second Blossom remained silent. Blossom couldn't do it. Not again.

"Come on…"

She grabbed his arm and dragged him downstairs. The others stayed upstairs as Blossom showed Butch the tape, not uttering a word as his face drained and his lips tightened. The Queen finished speaking again, and Blossom stopped the tape. Butch slid his hands up his face and onto his head. He closed his eyes tight, then opened them.

"Where's Buttercup?"

"She's gone, too," Blossom replied.

"Where?!" Butch demanded.

"She just took off. She'll be back. She's okay," Blossom reassured. Butch's face twisted, and his eyes shut again. Blossom beckoned him upstairs, and they floated back to the living room. Boomer leapt up and went over to Butch, quietly consoling his brother. Brick drifted over and watched him, giving the most reassuring face possible. Blossom stepped aside to Bubbles, and the two watched the brothers curiously. Never would they believe they'd see any sort of positive brotherhood between them. Never would they believe they'd see… caring? Love?

They broke away before the girl's could analyze anymore. Butch leaned against the wall, furiously searching for something in his leather jacket. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

"Please?" he asked Professor. The Professor nodded. Butch quickly popped a square in his mouth, lit it, and inhaled. His hand shook the ash off as it burned.

Just then, Brick's phone rang. He looked at Blossom and answered it.

"Hello?... Yes… Okay… Okay… …Okay… Alright, we'll be there soon… Good… Alright… Bye." Brick hung up the phone and looked at Blossom again.

"Time to go?" she asked.

"Time to go," Brick nodded.

"Where?" Butch questioned. "What's going on?"

"We'll explain on the way," Brick said. He gave Butch a comforting look… if you could call it that.

"What about Buttercup?" Bubbles asked.

"I'll send her your way when she comes back," The Professor said. "Take your phone, Blossom."

"Will do," she said. "Thank you, Professor."

Blossom zipped over and kissed him on the cheek. Bubbles skipped over to follow suit. The girls then zoomed upstairs to grab a few necessities for the road, including phones and chargers, and zoomed back downstairs. The boys were huddled by the wall, waiting. Blossom grabbed the tape, horse toy, and the card, and shoved them in her coat pocket.

"Everyone ready? Do we need to run to…" Blossom stopped. "Where have you guys been staying?"

"With Mojo," Brick answered. "It's home, we always have a place to crash. Didn't you figure that?"

"Oh," Blossom said. "Learn something new everyday."

"Yeah…"

"Alright, do we need to run to Mojo's for anything?" Blossom finally asked.

"No."

"No."

"No."

"Good! Let's go!"

The boys and the two girls headed out the front door. Blossom stopped right before she shut the door. The Professor stood by the couch looking extremely worried. He nibbled on his pipe anxiously. Blossom smiled weakly.

"We'll be okay," she said.

"I know."

"We love you, dad."

"…I know."


	9. Chapter 9 :: Poetry in Motion

**Chapter 9**

It was just past noon when the five landed safely and unseen in a small alley near Guerelli's penthouse. The Windy City was unusually stormy this afternoon, but this allowed them to zip through the sky unnoticed by civilians, and they were grateful, no matter how ominous the weather seemed to be. Trying their best not to get drenched, they followed Brick though the alley to the building (he was the only one who knew the way). All of the sudden, Blossom was strongly reminded of the mission last year. She and Brick spent a month cooped up in a crummy little flat where the only entrance was through the alley window. The whole thing was like an excerpt from a bad, film noir/gangster/

mystery novel, and Blossom wasn't excited to relive one of the worst periods of her life thus far. Hopefully this charade would be over soon enough.

Within moments, they made it to the back entrance of a rather tall building. Brick knocked, and they were immediately greeted by a huge, bald, baggy-eyed wise guy. He was only dressed in a pair of slacks and a black polo, but he still looked as if he could break a normal person in two. Brick flashed a smile.

"Marty," he greeted.

Suddenly, the wise guy's face lifted. He grinned.

"Fratellino!" he exclaimed. He embraced Brick, who begrudgingly returned the hug. Marty glanced at the others, giving them the warmest of expressions. He stepped out of the doorway.

"Come in! Come in!"

Marty led them through a few plain, empty hallways to an elevator. He pushed the button to the top floor.

"Last door on the right," Marty said. "Knock twice. They'll know it's you."

He waved them off as the doors glided shut. Brick looked behind him at the others. He smirked.

"You guys can, you know, talk or something," he chided.

"I don't think anyone is exactly comfortable with that," Blossom whispered, folding her arms tightly over her chest. Bubbles fidgeted with her long-sleeve hooded sweater as Boomer wiped the rain water off his face. Butch brooded in the corner with a dark look strangely reminiscent of Buttercup. Blossom eyed at Brick expectantly. He simply shrugged and stared ahead at the elevator doors.

The elevator came to a halt, and the doors glided open. The five stepped into the hallway, which was just as plain and empty as the others. Brick pointed to the right and he led them to the last door on the right. He rapped on the door twice. There was some quiet rustling, a few footsteps, and the door swung open. Blossom recognized the door man right away: the dark, curly-haired, gangly Tomas, one of the Don's trusted advisors. He happily greeted Brick, embracing him just as Marty had done earlier. He was not as welcoming to the others, though: he merely nodded at them, and pointed to a door on the other side of the room.

Tomas followed them through the elegantly decorated living room, which looked like it was taken straight from an Armani-style "Better Homes and Gardens" magazine. A large, dimly lit chandelier hung above at the center of the room, casting a soft golden glow that balanced the very "mod" interior design. The perfect, almost simplistic-looking furniture was made of pure black leather, and every surface was of stainless steel, all lying on a stark white fur area rug (Bubbles made a point to stay on the black linoleum). Countless paintings, all presumably originals, lined the stylish pinstripe wallpaper, each lit with it's own spotlight. The only window was covered by enormous black velvet curtains that barely waved as they walked past.

Eventually they entered an equally elegant study, complete with more original masterpieces and expensive furniture. A series of chic armchairs made of the same black leather from before were arranged around a stainless steel desk. At this desk sat an older man with salt-and-pepper hair, who wore a simple dress shirt and pressed black pants. He was clearly an attractive young man back in the day, but now his face was hardened by years of a rough life, and an especially rough few weeks. Despite his hardened face, he seemed more than happy to see them, and he stood up to graciously welcome his guests. This was Don Guerelli.

"Ah, Fratellino," he rumbled in his smooth Italian accent. He opened his arms wide, and Brick embraced him, suddenly much more obliged to be affectionate. Guerelli turned to Blossom and grinned.

"Mmm, _la bella ragazza_," he purred. He took her hand and kissed it. "It's so nice to see you again, Blossom."

"Same," Blossom squeaked. Brick rolled his eyes.

The Don turned to Bubbles and Boomer. Bubbles grinned awkwardly, still fidgeting with her hoodie. Guerelli gently took her hand and kissed it. Bubbles blushed.

"_La carina sorella,_" he said. "Bubbles, _sì_?"

"Y-Yeah," Bubbles stuttered. "Pleasure to meet you, s-sir."

Brick gave Blossom and Bubbles a nasty look. Blossom shot the look right back, knowing well enough that she and her sister were simply uncomfortable in the presence of such a powerful man. Meanwhile, the Don turned to Boomer, who took a tiny step back trying to avoid his gaze.

"Fratellino's brother Boomer," Guerelli laughed. He hugged him, Boomer very reluctantly hugging back. Guerelli then stepped away and turned to Butch, who looked anything but huggable hunched over with his arms crossed tight.

"Butch," the Don said quietly. Butch gave him a heavy look, a mix between sorrow, anger, and something else Blossom couldn't figure out. Guerelli slipped his hands into his pockets and simply looked at Butch.

"_Come sta?_" he whispered. Butch eyed him and shrugged his shoulders. Blossom noticed his jaw was clenched, his lips tightening into a long, thin line slashed across his face. He winced. Blossom finally understood what that last part of his look was: fear. He looked something like a prodigal son coming back to his father after years of defiance. It was then that Blossom realized that Butch obviously had a past in the underground, too.

"I'm going to help you, you know," Guerelli told him. Butch faltered, his shoulders shuddering a second. "You left us on good terms, why are you afraid to be here?" Butch opened his mouth to speak, but he said nothing. He shrugged his shoulders.

"Hard to come back after all these years, hm?" Guerelli said with a chuckle. Butch shook his head and smirked. Guerelli finally embraced him, too, and afterwards, he gestured all of them to sit. They obeyed, as he took a seat at the desk and looked over to Tomas, who'd been quiet the entire time. Tomas shut the door and took a seat on the loveseat nearby.

"So, we all know why you're here," Guerelli started. He looked straight at Butch, who sat directly in front of him. "We want to get young Bridie back. Tell me what happened."

Brick told everything that happened over the past few days, including the blossom-covered brick through the window, the fight between Butch and Buttercup, the discovery of the ransom video and Bridie's disappearance, and the viewing of the video. He mentioned every detail he could think of from the video, every word the Queen of Spades said. He also mentioned that Buttercup had taken off, and would hopefully join them later. He ended with the desired ransom price for Bridie, and how they were supposed to go about paying it.

"…and she gave us a number on the toy horse and told us to call when we had the money." Brick sighed and leaned back in his chair. Guerelli had listened patiently the entire time, no interruptions from anyone. Blossom pulled the toy out of the backpack she had brought and placed it on the desk.

"That's it," she said. "It was with the tape and the playing card."

"Colette is a funny woman, isn't she?" the Don chortled. Butch snorted loudly.

"We obviously don't have the money, sir," Blossom said. "But we are willing to do everything we can to save Bridie, and we believe you can help us."

"We're not asking for a favor or anything, _signore_," Brick added quickly. "We're just seeking advice, or some course of action we could take."

"Hmm…" the Don laced his fingers together and leaned back in his office chair. They all sat silently for a moment, awaiting Guerelli to speak.

"Well," Guerelli began. "You said that the girl is with Colette's 'personal assistant,' yes?"

"Yes," Brick replied.

"And only Colette, her assistant, and her – _ahem_ – 'sisters' know where the girl is?" Guerelli questioned.

"Yes," Blossom said impatiently. "But as she said, 'no amount of _persuasion_ will get me to tell you where she is.' We can't just find the Queen and make her give us Bridie back. She wants her money. We have no idea where her assistant is, since he's got Bridie in the first place, and we have no idea where her sisters are—"

"I do," Guerelli smiled.

"You do?" Butch asked, sitting up so fast he made Bubbles and Boomer next to him jump.

"I at least know where Gemma Pietra and Lila Delamer are," he said. "Diamonds and Hearts, respectively."

"Where's 'Clubs?'" Blossom asked, scoffing at the last word.

"Well, I would reason she was the one who kidnapped young Bridie," Guerelli answered. "That would mean she's either close to or in Townsville."

"What?!" Butch stood up."That bitch is still in Townsville with my kid? I'm gonna fucking—"

"Butch!" Brick grabbed his brother and hurled him back into the chair. Butch glared at him, teeth bared, but Brick kept him down with an even fiercer look. Butch folded his arms across his chest and went back to sulking. Brick ran a hand over his gelled hair.

"Sorry, _signore,_" he apologized.

"I'm sure after the kidnapping, Ms. Strike hit the road straight away," The Don continued, politely ignoring the outburst. "No one will know where she is now, except perhaps her other 'sisters.' So I suppose my only advice is to find them yourselves_._ If you find them, I'm sure your can easily persuade _them_ to reveal the whereabouts of Evan, and of course, your little girl. "

"Alright!" Brick exclaimed heartily. "That's the plan then!"

"Are you sure that would work?" Blossom asked warily. "I'm sure her sisters would tip her off once she discovers out we're trying to _find_ Bridie instead of pay the ransom. That would just endanger Bridie even more, wouldn't it?"

"Well, think about it," Guerelli sat forward, speaking only to Blossom. "Colette wants her money, and she will do whatever it takes to get her money. Naturally, she doesn't want to lose any of it. She went as far as to entrust her only collateral to her personal assistant who I'm sure is stationed miles away from her businesses. She would die before losing any of her assets. This means that no matter how much trouble you five cause, she cannot harm the girl without endangering her well being and most importantly, her chances of getting the ransom."

"So, she won't hurt Bridie because then otherwise, we wouldn't have a reason to give her the money," Brick concluded. "It works."

"That makes sense," Boomer agreed. Bubbles nodded silently.

"Ah, but then she would try harder to hide Bridie, thus making it harder to find her," Blossom argued.

"Let's put it this way," Guerelli said. "Her sisters are barely a step below Colette herself. Taking down her three, equally powerful, hand-picked associates _and_ their armies should be enough to warn her that you will not pay without a fight. If you don't find little Bridie by the time you destroy her sisters, you have no reason but to, well, _crash_ _her_ _party_ in Nevada."

"And we'll kick her ass and _make_ her tell us where my daughter is!" Butch cried.

"Exactly." Don Guerelli smiled.

"So find the other Queens, make them tell us where Bridie is and save her," Blossom stated. "If we don't find her by then, go to Vegas and force Colette to give her back."

"Yes," Guerelli said with a nod.

"This isn't going to be fun," Blossom said gravely. "Or safe."

"You could always rob a bank," Guerelli suggested with a shrug.

"We've already been through that," Brick said, shaking his head.

"You know," Blossom thought suddenly. "Why didn't we just go to the police?"

"Excuse me?" Brick asked indignantly. He glanced at the Don expectantly. Blossom sat up, shaking her head.

"No offense intended at all, sir, but why can't we just go to the police?" she asked. "I'm a lawyer, and I know there are series of procedures they'd go through, we have video proof the indict Colette, and—"

"No." Guerelli interrupted Blossom with a grim smile. "As easy as that would be, you of all people should know that someone as powerful as Colette LeBlageuer is fully prepared against the law."

"How?"

"Blossom, it's as simple as paying off a few judges to butt out," Brick said matter-of-factly. "You should know this, Ms. Harvard-Law."

"What did you call me?" Blossom asked, offended.

"Moving on," the Don said suddenly. Blossom and Brick sat back in their chairs. "Going to the police is out of the question, as is paying the ransom or going to Colette to get Bridie yourself. I also imagine that if Colette is killed, the deal is off, and the child is also as good as dead."

Butch shifted in his seat.

"So, I suggest going first to Gemma Pietra's storage house in the heart of West Virginia," Guerelli said. "I'll have Tomas give you the exact location. She'll be the easiest to take care of, considering she is roughly in the middle of nowhere, deep in the mountains. See what information you can get from her, and if the information isn't substantial enough, take out the warehouse. Might as well show Colette you mean business."

"What about Gemma?" Brick asked. "Do we… you know…"

"No," Guerelli replied. "Refrain from taking out anyone important. The more bloodshed you cause, the more they will be willing to return the favor. The girl simply has to be alive for the deal, not exactly in good condition…"

"What do we do after that?" Blossom asked, noticing Butch shift in his seat once more.

"Once again, if information isn't substantial enough, take care of the warehouse and I suppose just rough Gemma up. Scare her. She'll probably then try to let her sisters know what's going on, so perhaps take out any phone or internet connection beforehand to buy yourselves some time. She will eventually get ahold of Colette, I don't doubt it, but not before you go after Lila Delamer in Texas.

"Lila, of course, runs the gentlemen's club 'Wonderland.' You'll have a hard time finding it, seeing as you literally have to go into a hole to get there."

"Ha," Boomer chuckled. "Down the rabbit's hole to Wonderland."

"Precisely," the Don said, rolling his eyes. He continued. "I've never been there, but I would look around for a large group of people somewhere in the Chihuahaun desert in far west Texas. Lila will have her share of goons, as well as civilians, so you'll have to find a clever way to get to her without causing a scene. If you can't get enough information from her, then rough her up, too. Use your brains. As a businesswoman, she has her own things to worry about, so she might tell more if you threaten her business somehow.

"After this, you should hopefully find a way to take care of Evan. If you get to Evan, you'll probably find a way to get to Bridie. If you can't get to Evan, then you have no other choice but to go to Las Vegas and finally confront Colette.

"I have no idea how it will work out after encountering Lila, so you'll be on your own for the most part. Do stay in contact, though, and I will personally try to help out as much as I can."

"Do you demand any sort of payment?" Brick asked, very business-like.

"Only one thing," Guerelli said. Blossom sensed the sudden drop in his tone; she gulped. "You must get Bridie back first, though. Fratellino – Brick – I think you know precisely what I want."

He stared at Brick knowingly. Brick looked at him, momentarily confused. Then, he understood. He nodded gravely.

"Are you asking for destruction or all out?" Brick asked vaguely.

"I'm asking you to make sure that Colette no longer has the power to call a hit on me or my family," Guerelli stated firmly. "Whatever that means to you. Use your brains."

Brick paused for a second.

"Alright," he said finally. Blossom stared at him, with every intention to question him later with what it meant to him. She was not comfortable killing anyone, especially for a mafia family. That was much too involved.

Brick and Guerelli stood up, the others following suit shortly after. Brick and Guerelli shook hands and exchanged formal farewells. The Don gave his heartfelt good-byes to the others, and Tomas stepped over to the door to see them out. He handed Brick a slip of paper.

"Here's the address," he said to Brick. "Good luck, Fratellino."

Brick thanked him, and the others filed out of the room. Brick turned around one last time to the Don.

"Should we take off now, then?" he asked.

"Of course not," the Don said. "It'll be dark by the time you get there – I would say wait until morning."

"Sounds good," Brick agreed. "Hotel for the night it is."

"Why would you do that?" the Don asked suddenly. He headed to the doorway and put a hand on Brick's shoulder. "You've got the whole upstairs for free."

As promised, the five stayed upstairs in the guest floor of the Don's penthouse, just for the night. The day _was_ incredibly hectic, so the good night's rest was thoroughly welcome. Butch personally wouldn't have minded leaving right away, but he felt he could do with a break, too. The floor itself was significantly smaller and less showy than the downstairs, it was still much better than even the best luxury hotels, complete with room service, delicious food, wonderful amenities, and a room for each of them. They spent the rest of the evening enjoying fine Italian dining and trying their best to relax before tomorrow.

After dinner, Blossom followed Brick into one of the bedrooms, preparing to interrogate him about his plans for Colette. She had no idea what he usually did for his "family," but for the family they were both somehow apart of, anything too dangerous was out of the question.

Brick collapsed onto the bed, kicking his shoes off with two gentle thuds. Blossom casually leaned against the doorway, nonchalantly picking at her nails.

"Hey, Brick?" she started.

Brick barely lifted his head up. He frowned.

"Um… no, you're not sharing a room with me," he said with a laugh.

"Ha," Blossom rolled her eyes. "No, I was just wondering… you don't intend to… well… do anything bad to Colette, do you?"

"Define 'bad,'" Brick said, still refusing to sit up.

"Well," Blossom sighed. She didn't want to come out and say it. "You don't plan on, well… I don't know…"

"Killing her?" Brick said for her. Blossom stopped picking her nails and stared at him.

"That's… that's out of the question, you know," Blossom said. "I won't let you just kill someone."

Brick finally sat up. He looked at Blossom curiously. He started playing with the buttons on his shirt. Then, he asked her a very strange question.

"Do you think I'm a killer?"

"What?" Blossom asked.

"Do you think I've killed people?" Brick rephrase the question.

"I…"

Blossom honestly wasn't sure. She'd never thought about it until now. She seemed to forget that Brick being a mobster meant he probably had to off a few guys. And considering he was, well, _evil, _he probably has killed. But Blossom had a hard time believing she was currently associating with a cold-blooded murderer. She had never actually encountered anyone who actually killed – Mojo Jojo, Sedusa, Princess, even the notorious Him… no one killed. They got awfully close, but no real murders. No real victims. Even after the countless armed robberies and monster attacks, no one ever perished. Brick could be a killer, but Blossom was not willing to accept it.

"I don't know," she finally answered.

"Do you _want_ to know?" Brick asked. He stood up and started unbuttoning his shirt. He headed to the walk-in closest and grabbed a hanger. Blossom looked down, contemplating his next question. She suddenly wondered how this ended up twisting around – _she_ felt like she was being interrogated. Brick stepped over and looked down at her, awaiting her answer. Blossom felt a chill run up her spine as she slowly looked up. Their eyes locked. She never realized how much taller Brick was compared to her – they never actually _stood_ next to each other, did they? She had to admit: right this second, she had never been more intimidated by her super counterpart until now.

Brick smirked. Blossom took a step back.

"Look, if you don't mind, I want to sleep," Brick said, nudging Blossom out of the way and grabbing the door. He grabbed the door and shut the light off. He grinned. "In the mean time, you have something to think about, don't you?" He shut the door.

She certainly did have something else to think about now.

Bubbles and Boomer were planted in living room watching cartoons, just as they had the day before. Butch came out of the bathroom, fresh from a shower, furiously drying off his hair. He stood near the couch, watching the two sit next to each other in dead silence. Butch snorted and pulled a pack of cigarettes out from his pocket.

"You know, maybe if you guys tried talking about shit you wouldn't have this awkward silence problem," he remarked. With that, he headed over to the large slanted window, opened it, and stepped outside.

Bubbles grabbed the remote and turned the television off. She stared at the window, the cool, post-storm breeze drifting through the screen. Boomer rubbed his neck uncomfortably. He sighed.

"I guess he's right," Boomer said quietly. "Maybe we should talk… about… I don't know…"

"Wait," Bubbles said, holding up a finger. Boomer eyed her. Bubbles suddenly stood up and drifted to the window, her finger still floating in the air. She listened carefully, but for what, Boomer didn't know. Then, she slid open the screen and hopped out, too. Boomer huffed. Just his luck, just when he finally wanted to break the awkward silence between him and Bubbles, she had to go run off. Not really knowing what else to do, he glided over to the window and glared out at the city below.

It had stopped storming hours ago, and now the sky was mostly clear. The rain made the air very cold, but it didn't seem to bother Butch, who was just sitting along the slanted rooftop, a cigarette rested between his fingers. He stared off ahead, barely noticing Bubbles crawl up the slick metal roof and sit next to him. She watched him, pulling her knees up to her chest and ready to do what she did best: listen. He sure seemed like he needed someone to listen to him.

"You okay?" Bubbles asked softly. Butch flicked his cigarette and took a long drag. He exhaled with a puff of smoke.

"You know," he started. "Back in New York, she and I would fight all the time. Almost every day. Said some awful shit to each other, too, let me tell ya. It was worse when Bridie was little because she would cry and I would yell and she would scream and it was just… it was just bad. Usually I'd end up leaving, normally going to the bar a few blocks down. I'd have a few drinks, cool off, and in a few hours I'd come home.

"Every now and then, it was just kiss and make up. Sometimes, though, I'd find her up on the roof, kinda like this. We had a penthouse, too, but nothing as fancy as this. Anyways, she would be up there just… looking out. She could be up there for hours, too, just… staring out at the city. I don't know why. I never understood why."

Bubbles smiled.

"She did that at home, too," Bubbles said. "If things got really bad she'd run off downtown and just sit somewhere. She actually had a spot up on this one building near town hall. Usually that's where she would cry – you know, big bad Buttercup who refused to cry in public. I followed her once or twice. It's just… I think she finds comfort in it somehow."

"I think I get it now," Butch said, taking another quick puff. "It's funny how when everything gets all shitty and, like, you hit a wall or something… everything else is still going. The world don't stop. It's actually kinda irritating _and_ comforting, because when you want everything to stop, it doesn't. Not for you. Not for anyone. But at the same time, because it keeps going, maybe it's like it's saying you should, too. And you know, being up here is like being apart of something… something bigger. You can see all these people, all crammed together into this small area of the world just going about their lives whether they like it or not. It's like one, big, twisted support group. It doesn't matter if we hate each other or not, we're still here together, living and… going. Together… and going."

Bubbles looked at Butch. She smiled. Butch finally turned to her, one eyebrow raised. He took his last puff and crunched the cigarette on the roof.

"That's deep," Bubbles said. Butch laughed. He stood up.

"Yeah, I know, who'd've thunk? Stupid, immature, fucked up Butch."

"Hmmm, I'd've thunk," Bubbles said sweetly. "If Buttercup has her poetic moments, why shouldn't you?"

Butch smirked and ruffled his hair. He looked off into the distance, his eyes softening sadly.

"She should be here," he said quietly.

"She should," Bubbles agreed, standing up. "But if she's not either at home or on her way here, you can bet she's probably consulting her personal support group back at home."

"Yeah… probably…"

Miles away from Chicago, right back in Townsville, a cold and tired Buttercup sat on the very edge of one of the tallest buildings in the city. It was freezing, and having forgotten to change, Buttercup was still in her pajamas, which was nothing more than pajama bottoms, a tank-top, and undergarments. She didn't even have socks or shoes. She shivered, her windswept black hair tickling her neck in the frosty breeze. She didn't care. Right now, there wasn't a lot she _did_ care about. The most important things were gone, anyway.

What was she supposed to do? She didn't have the money to pay. She didn't have the knowledge to find her daughter. She didn't have the emotional stability to handle the situation rationally. She knew this, at least. Really, though, she didn't have anything. Anything that actually mattered.

"_AGHHH!!!" _

Buttercup heaved a great sob… and she wept. The tears poured down her face, burning her already red and chapped cheeks. She wept, and wept, and wept. It wasn't even the sadness that got to her. It wasn't even the terror of losing her only child. There was just nothing – she – could do. The helplessness… the absolute powerlessness of the situation. She may as well have lost every super power she possessed; better yet, she may as well have been back in Him's lair, literally standing on the very edge of oblivion, believing there was nothing else to do but jump. Unfortunately, this time wasn't just a mindfuck. She really was in a battle where all her greatest weapons meant nothing, could conquer nothing, could defend nothing.

She might as well be nothing. She failed… as a partner, a mother, and a defender of lives. What was there to do now?

Buttercup sniffled, her body still shaking violently. What _was_ there to do now? Not a lot, really, except maybe go home. Or maybe just go to sleep.

Or maybe…

Sure, why not?

Buttercup wiped her face and stood up. She floated an inch or two off the edge of the building, searching for the exact place she wanted to go. A small, dingy place on the corner of 5th and Main, a place she remembered was always full of hooligans and petty criminals who dined on bitter black coffee and the worst burgers in town. A few years ago, she sat on this very building looking for some trouble to get her mind off things. Now she wanted to do it again.

In a single lightning bolt, Buttercup zoomed off towards the nasty, grimy-windowed, green-paneled, danger-friendly "Gritz Café."


	10. Chapter 10 :: Whiskey Lullaby

**Chapter 10**

To Buttercup's surprise, the Gritz hadn't changed one bit since the last time she was here. The windows were still pitch black from years of dust and smoke, the painted paneling still peeling, and the wooden sign still appearing to be carved by a pocketknife. A tiny bell clanged as she pushed the black door in and entered the café. Even the interior looked the same as before: two yellow lamps hung from each side of the room, casting a soft, dim light on the dozen or so unpolished tables haphazardly placed around. There was, however, one huge difference between this visit and the last: people.

Unlike the last time, the joint was _jumping_. A psychedelic rock song blasted through a small stereo on the wall as Buttercup saw that each table was occupied, surrounded by crowds of obnoxious thugs and the occasional wannabe trailer park floozy. Groups of smarmy-looking crooks played poker as some trashy babes smoked menthols and buzzed around them like flies at a picnic. A few couples hid in the shadows, their dark bodies waving slightly as they fondled each other. Several greasy men lined the bar, tended by the same cigar-smoking, spiky-chinned hostess as before. Every now and then an equally unattractive waitress would weave through the masses carrying trays of burnt garlic fries and pitchers of cheap beer.

Buttercup floated through the crowd, still barefoot, to the only remaining seat at the counter. She sat, the stool cushion squishing beneath her weight. Not one of the men at the bar noticed her. She tried to remember if she had any money with her, but was quickly interrupted by the hostess lumbering over to her, her deep-set eyes glaring at her.

"Whadaya want?" she rasped, blowing a puff of smoke in her face. Buttercup shrugged, folding her arms and leaning forward.

"What's the strongest shit you got?" she asked.

"Scotch or bourbon?" the hostess grumbled.

"Surprise me," Buttercup sighed. "With Coke."

The hostess slapped her filthy dish rag on the counter and lumbered away to mix the drink. She came back and slammed the drink in front of Buttercup, splashing almost half of it out of the tumbler. Buttercup stared at it, slowly looking up at the hostess, then back to the glass. She frowned. The hostess narrowed her eyes. Buttercup then rolled her eyes, grabbed the glass and knocked it back in one gulp. She slammed the glass on the counter, smacking her lips.

"Another."

"That wasn't a shot," the hostess said with a smirk. Buttercup shook the glass and smiled.

"Another, please."

Over the next fifteen minutes, Buttercup threw down almost a dozen drinks. She didn't feel anything yet – a pro to this superpower thing that Buttercup never mentioned to her sisters. She wouldn't feel anything until at least another dozen drinks. She wasn't even worried about how much her tab was adding up; all she was worried about was balancing the bitterness in her with as much alcohol as possible. What the hell else did she have to lose?

On her thirteenth glass of Jack and Coke, Buttercup found her eyes wandering around the room, gazing at each lousy lowlife. Each one looked lousier and lousier as she went, too, gambling their troubles away or drinking themselves into a pitiful stupor. She momentarily considered the idea that every possible stereotypical drunk had to be crammed in the restaurant tonight: the groping, nasally bimbo; the loud-mouthed tough guy; the blue-collar chump; the slick, martini-sipping hustler; and even the moping, middle-class housewife.

Which stereotype was she? Buttercup huffed and threw back the rest of her drink.

Then, she saw them. Right through the blurred bottom of her glass, in the corner of the restaurant, there he was, the one person Buttercup never thought she'd be happier, or angrier, to see.

"Ace."

Déjà vu was hitting her harder than ever. The greasy hair was a dead giveaway, as well as the dark green face. He was sitting, his head bent low, with that same girl she remembered from the mini-mart. They were both dressed in black, almost camouflaged in the shadows. The girl's short brown hair fluttered past her ears as she giggled inaudibly at something. Buttercup didn't realize how young this chick looked last time she saw her – she couldn't have been more then twenty. Well, Ace _did_ seem to have a thing for jailbait anyway, didn't he? Buttercup smirked. Buttercup herself was barely eighteen when she and Ace had their clandestine affair. Upon further inspection, his new girl actually kind of resembled younger Buttercup, with the same short hair and heavy black eyeliner. Funny if her name was similar, wouldn't it? Buttercup then tried to remember the girl's name… didn't Ace introduce them? What was her name? It was short, and started with an "s"…

Ace grinned and looked up, glancing across the room through his sunglasses. Buttercup turned away, avoiding his gaze. She winced, thinking he might've seen her, but from the corner of her eye, she saw him go back to his conversation unfazed. She stared off again as the hostess came by with another drink. What the _fuck_ was that girl's name? Buttercup went through all the "s" names she could think of, but none of them fit. She took a sip, her eyes settling on a group of card-players nearby. One of the players crushed his cigarette on the table.

"Whatcha got, Ralph?" he asked over the noise. Ralph, the man across from the other guy, placed his cards on the table. He spoke through the Marlboro nestled between his lips.

"Four aces and the queen of clubs."

"WHAT?!" Ralph's friend snapped, standing up and knocking the chair back behind him. Ralph sneered and shouted at him.

"Four motherfuckin' aces and the _queen of clubs!_"

Ace and his girl glanced at the card-players. The girl frowned and looked back at Ace. She shook her head. They went back to their conversation.

Just then, Buttercup remembered her name. _Strike. _Her name was Strike. _Evie_ Strike, to be exact, better known as the "Queen of Clubs." Why didn't she think of it before?

Buttercup dropped her glass. It shattered on the floored with a muffled crash. She didn't care; she was busy keeping herself from bolting across the room and strangling the Queen on the spot. But she couldn't make a scene. Not here. Not now. The nasty conscious in her head, the one that sounded scarily like Blossom, told her to do anything but kill the bitch. Buttercup grabbed the counter for support. She felt the mahogany splintering in her grasp. Her pulse pounded in her temple. She must wait. _Wait, Buttercup. Wait. _She would kil-- confront them outside the second they left.

As the heavens would have it, Ace and Strike suddenly stood up. Buttercup's heart raced. Ace tossed a few bucks on the table and Strike led the way through the horde of customers. Buttercup looked away from them, listening for the little bell to tingle on their way out. It did, a blast of cold air whooshing through the doorway. The bell tingled once more and the door slammed shut. Buttercup gave them a few seconds head start. Then—

_WHOOSH!_

"ACE!" Buttercup roared as she busted through the door and out into the street. She snarled. "STRIKE! WHERE ARE Y—"

Suddenly, she felt a sting of blazing hot pain race through her arm. Buttercup tried to steady herself in midair, but she fell, collapsing on the damp sidewalk. Her head began to swim, and the world started to darken. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out except a sickening gurgle. She clutched her arm, looking for the source of the pain. She felt it. Buttercup looked down, trying to see the strange object plunged in her arm. She couldn't make it out through her foggy vision. She tried to speak once more.

"…wh…wha… what?..."

Then a strong hand grabbed at her face. Evie Strike stared at Buttercup with her piercing ice blue eyes, an evil grin smeared across her face.

"This'll be fun, won't it?"

Buttercup swallowed. Her body shuddered. She fainted.

***

The others were up bright and early the next day. By 9 AM, Blossom, Brick, Bubbles, Boomer, and Butch were saying good-bye to the Don, and within moments, were off on their way to West Virginia. They had to be careful not to be seen by any civilians, and when they did get to the location, which happened to be near Sabine in the southwestern part of the state, they had to remain unseen. The sight of five colorful streaks in the sky wasn't exactly normal in coal country, Appalachia (it wasn't really normal anywhere outside of Townsville, to be honest).

They didn't arrive near the location until late afternoon/early evening. Blossom took this opportunity to take a break at an abandoned campsite while Bubbles and Boomer left to grab something to eat. They couldn't explore the hills until nightfall, so they had a few hours to kill. Butch sat on a picnic table, staring off into the forest. Blossom sat near Butch, jotting down notes in a small pad of paper she had brought with her. Brick sat across from her, watching her curiously as she would stop, think a moment, and then excitedly write down her ideas.

"What exactly are you doing?" Brick asked. Blossom glanced at him.

"Just trying to figure this stuff out," she replied. She closed the notebook and tucked it into her backpack.

"Didn't you keep a diary last year?" Brick leaned back against the table, arms folded across his chest.

"I think so," Blossom said vaguely. She remembered, of course, but she really remembered hiding that sucker in her bureau, hoping never to see it again. The record itself was what kept her peace of mind, not the contents therein. She did remember how much she complained about Brick, but she chose not to let him know that.

"I wanna read it," he said suddenly. Blossom snorted.

"Why would you wanna do that?"

"To read all the juicy insults you wrote about me," Brick looked at her and smiled. Blossom's face drained. Did he hear her thoughts?! Brick narrowed his eyes, his grin widening.

"Ha! I knew it," he laughed. "So do you actually keep track of ideas or do you just write down all the things you don't want to say out loud?"

"I don't know," Blossom spat. She sniffled. "Both."

"Ha," Brick eyed her backpack. Blossom dragged it closer to her with her foot. She glared at him. Brick rolled his eyes. "Please. God forbid someone's interested in your thoughts."

Blossom opened her mouth to retort back, but she couldn't think of anything to say. That was almost a compliment. Or he was just nosy. Maybe both?

Bubbles and Boomer came back with some pizza. They ate, with the exception of Butch, who seemed unusually aloof. Blossom was curious as she failed to recall a time that he seemed so distant. He was normally loud and abrasive, more or less the life of the party. His brooding was unsettling, but Blossom understood. She couldn't imagine what he was going through… but then again, why should she worry? There was still some amount of animosity, probably mostly on her part, but he still hurt Buttercup, and yes, Blossom was still adjusting to the new friendly relationship between her sisters and the boys. At the same time, though, he was the father of her niece and her sister's love. Blossom then realized how weird it was to think of it like that. Her sister's… ex? Her niece's dad? Hm. Blossom stared at him. After a moment, he looked up, his eyes like tiny slits. Blossom flashed him a friendly smile. He didn't return it. He rested his head on his arms and continued staring into the forest.

After dinner, they patiently waited until dusk, making small talk and wondering who the Queen of Diamonds could be. By sunset, it was still light out, but dark enough in the forest to start exploring. Bubbles took care of their leftovers with a quick disintegrating laser blast, and they were on their way.

They floated silently through the trees, drifting off every now and then on their own. It was very dark, the moonlight barely slipping through the leaves, but they got used to it fast. Boomer stayed close to Bubbles, following a somewhat trodden footpath headed south. He was briefly reminded of last year when he and Bubbles spent a month wandering through the dense island jungle for a hidden laboratory. He tried not to think about it too long – it just upset him. He found that he secretly missed it, and why he did was something he'd really rather not dwell on. Meanwhile, Brick zoomed off far ahead east, Blossom a short distance to the north, and Butch overseeing the rear in case they missed anything. After an hour or so, it seemed as if they were going nowhere. Frustrated, Blossom headed over to Brick.

"This is ridiculous," she hissed. "We're looking for a mine, right?"

"Yeah?" Brick replied with a shrug, not really paying attention to her.

"And why would a mine be hidden in the forest? Mines are usually huge, great big industrial parks…"

"It's a covert warehouse leading to underground tunnels," Brick explained irritably. "It wouldn't exactly be in the open, would it?"

"It would at least be seen from above the trees, yes?" Blossom argued.

"Maybe," Brick said. "But we can't exactly blow our cover with you flashing pink above the forest, though, can we?"

"I will not flash pink! I'm just gonna float up and check it out," Blossom said, starting to quietly float up above the trees. Brick immediately turned around, grabbed her foot, and yanked her back down. Blossom glared at him.

"How dare you—"

"I'm not letting you blow our cover!" Brick growled. "A floating chick in the sky isn't good either."

"Do we even know who might see us?" Blossom demanded. "For all we know, Gemma's probably by herself and not even watching the skies."

"Clearly, you have no concept of real criminal activity," Brick sneered. "There's safety – and security – in numbers. She's got accomplices constantly watching the place, I guarantee it."

"Oh, yes, I'm sure she hired a bunch of hillbillies to watch her shiny jewelry," Blossom commented. Brick looked at her funny.

"Wow," he said, an eyebrow rising. "That was kinda un-PC of you."

"You know what I meant," Blossom grumbled. She immediately felt awful, but tried not to show it.

Then, there was some rustling, down below in the bushes. Brick and Blossom listened carefully. Blossom scanned the area, looking for the source of the sound. It wasn't Butch or Boomer and Bubbles; she could easily see them off in the distance. The noise was straight ahead, and it sounded… fast. It scrambled away, the bushes quivering as it zoomed through. Blossom instantly pushed Brick after it, whispering to him,

"I'll get the others. Follow it!"

He nodded and glided through the trees after it. Blossom took off to get the others, and together they headed back after Brick, zipping through the forest as fast and stealthily as possible. Whatever was moving clearly knew the area, slipping effortlessly through the undergrowth. Whether it was a person or creature, though, was still a mystery. They followed it for almost twenty minutes until, just as sudden as it started, it stopped. It seemed to be hiding in a small tree, and they all drifted in closer for a better look.

"Where'd it go?" Bubbles asked, her voice barely a whisper.

"There." Butch pointed ahead, and Blossom almost kicked herself on the spot. Right there, just past a few large trees was an opening leading to a huge, two-story warehouse. It was probably once abandoned, given the freckled rust on the tin siding, and the only signs of life were a lit lantern hanging by the door and a dim light in the far left second story window. The front was covered in various junk, including a few ancient, broken down cars and many busted up boxes. Blossom then smiled to herself, happy to see no sign of any henchmen on the property.

"So that's it?" Boomer asked. Brick nodded.

"I don't see why it wouldn't be," he said.

"That was easy," Boomer chuckled.

"Well, what are we waiting for, then?" Butch exclaimed, pushing through them and heading towards the opening. "Let's crash this place…"

Brick grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt.

"What are you, nuts?" Brick snapped. "There's gonna be guys hiding behind all that junk…"

"I don't see anything," Blossom said. "I _told_ you. Come on, let's go."

"No!" Brick said. "We have to be careful! And of all the people I have to remind to do that…"

"We'll be fine!" Blossom huffed, ignoring the last comment. "Let's go. _With caution_."

They drifted past the trees and into the opening. Blossom made sure to keep her eyes peeled, ready to get a glimpse at any other sign of movement. They floated in midair a moment, taking in their surroundings. Then, they slowly eased themselves to the ground, staring ahead at the warehouse.

"So, we just bust on in, right?" Bubbles asked.

"What else is there to do?" Boomer agreed.

"Well," Brick though aloud. "We can crash through the window and meet up with her right away."

"Or we can sneak through the back and try to avoid any trouble," Blossom suggested.

"Or ya'lls can scooch yer trespassin' selves right offa this here property!"

They whirled around, only to meet a series of huge, large barreled shotguns aimed right at their faces. Each gun was wielded by a pink, furry, monstrous being, with bulbous green noses and two antennae tipped with blue-grey bulbs. There were over half dozen of them, each in various sizes, all glaring at them.

"Lumpkins!" Bubbles gasped.

"Holy…" Butch's voice disappeared, but it was exactly what they were all thinking. Who knew that lumpkins were found outside of Townsville? Holy something indeed.

"Now ya'll kin jus' float on outta here 'n' no one gets hurt, mkay?" One of the lumpkins drawled, pressing the gun to Boomer's chest. Blossom shook her head and turned around. To her horror, there were even more lumpkins, five – ten – twenty – dozens of them. Most of them had similar guns, some with some random melee weapons, the bigger ones with nothing at all. Blossom backed away with a gulp.

"We're not going anywhere," Brick announced, glaring into the barrel of the gun aimed at his forehead "Not until you let us see Gemma Pietra."

"The Queen don't wanna see you," one of the lumpkins said. "So all ya'll kin go on 'n' scram."

"No," Blossom said firmly. "Take us to the Queen of Diamonds now."

"I don't think so," the lumpkin facing Blossom said. He jabbed the gun into her stomach. "Now, git!"

"You don't wanna shoot us," Brick said menacingly, staring down at his respective lumpkin.

"Noooo?" the lumpkin said, cocking his gun.

"You can't hurt us," Brick said simply. "So, back off. Don't waste your buckshot, do you?"

"I'll shoot whatever I wanna shoot," the lumpkin snarled. "And it looks like it's gon' be you."

"One more time," Blossom warned. "Take us to Gemma or else."

"Or else what?" her lumpkin asked.

"This."

Butch wasted no further time and exploded in a blast of lime green electricity. Several guns went off, lumpkins firing at will or accidentally firing from the blast, but nothing before the heroes began pounding away at the horse of creatures.

Bubbles and Boomer teamed up, back to back, whirling around in the air as lumpkin after lumpkin leapt at them, biting, kicking, and scratching. Bubbles punched and kicked, Boomer rammed his powerful fists into the fuzzy pink fur. Nearby, Blossom flew high above the army, sending of laser beams left and right. The lumpkins, though, proved much more vicious than anticipated. After realizing their guns did nothing, the lumpkins pounced in the air after the heroes, ripping at their ankles, desperately trying to sink their yellow teeth into their limbs. They went from dangerous guardsmen to ferocious animals in no time, and the heroes tried their best to fight back. Brick spiraled up in the air, took a deep breath, and scorched the enemies with an enormous blast of flames. Several lumpkins howled, the fire burning their pale green faces. Butch rammed himself into a few, head-butting one, elbowing another, one critical blow after another. No matter what happened, though, the lumpkins didn't seem to let down. Every time the team would turn around, another batch of lumpkins were after them, just as violent as the last.

Blossom rocketed off into the air, gasping and trying to catch her breath. She watched the fight below, grimacing. The lumpkins just kept coming, flowing from the bushes and trees, ripping her fellow heroes to shreds. Brick blew a fireball at a particularly fierce lumpkin that had sunk his claws into Butch's leg. Boomer and Bubbles visibly grew more and more exasperated, over-exerting themselves with every new foe. There were just too many of them, and if the heroes didn't change tactics soon, they were going to lose by sheer exhaustion.

Blossom hurriedly surveyed the area, searching for a solution. What could Blossom do? What could _any of them _do? Something else had to be done… or else. The broken cars looked useless. The abundant trash heaps didn't seem too promising either. None of the resources seemed of any use. She spotted several oak barrels lining the wall of the warehouse. Trying her best to avoid the lumpkins, Blossom rushed to the barrels and grabbed one, lifting it effortlessly back into the sky with her. She balanced it between her ankles and ripped one end off. In the barrel was a strong, murky brown liquid. She inhaled – alcohol.

Blossom gazed back at the fight below. The others were still diligently battling the lumpkins, but it was obvious their powers were reaching their limit. The lumpkins were still going strong, though a few backed away, aware that they were winning. Blossom saw Butch explode into another electrical rage, blasting groups away from him as he furiously tried to keep them at bay.

Then, it came to her.

"HEEEEEEEEY!" Blossom screamed.

Somehow, in the heat of combat, everyone stopped. Brick, Butch, Boomer, and Bubbles panted as they stared up at Blossom, horrified. The lumpkins glared at her, some still reaching out for the heroes. Blossom held the barrel at her side, still floating above them all.

"This is going nowhere!" she yelled. "I have a better idea!"

She glided back to the ground, praying the lumpkins wouldn't attack her on the spot. They didn't, seeming to be more distracted by the open barrel in her arms than Blossom herself. Blossom eyed the hordes, a bit surprised she had their attention. She slowly set the barrel down. She took a deep, steadying breath.

"We challenge you… to a drinking contest."

There was a quick buzz of confusion. The lumpkins mumbled amongst themselves as the heroes just stared ahead, still aghast. Blossom bit her lip. She continued.

"One of us versus one of you – our champions will drink until the loser passes out. If you win, we'll leave, no further remarks. If we win, you lead us to the Queen. Deal?"

She waited. There was a painfully long silence. Blossom looked up at Bubbles and the boys, urging them silently that this would work. As long as her assumptions were correct, she surely hoped it would. Suddenly, one of the largest lumpkins stepped out from the crowd and approached her. He has to be at least seven, eight feet tall, and just as much round. His beady eyes glinted at her from above his watermelon-sized nose. He snorted, wiping his nose with his matted furry arm. Blossom smiled weakly.

"Deal?" she repeated.

"Deal." The lumpkin collapsed onto the ground. The rest of the army left the other heroes in the air and gathered around Blossom and the Giant Lumpkin. A few left to grab some glasses and a few more barrels, and placed them next to their champion. Bubbles and the boys drifted over, floating above the lumpkin army, staring at Blossom with unanimous fear. Blossom glanced at them.

"Who's yer champ-yon?" the Giant Lumpkin demanded in his deep, rumbling voice. He looked at Blossom expectantly. Blossom grinned.

"Butch."

"Me?" Butch cried. His brothers and Bubbles turned to him. Even the lumpkins looked up at him. Butch slowly looked around, then turned to Blossom. His eyebrows lifted and his mouth dropped. He pointed to himself. Blossom nodded confidently. Butch tried to swallow.

"Go!" Brick urged, pushing his brother into the ring. Butch stumbled in the air to Blossom, who promptly pushed him onto the barrel in front of the Giant Lumpkin. Blossom grabbed two of the dirty glasses from the ground, scooped each full of alcohol, and placed it on the empty barrel between Butch and the Lumpkin. Blossom patted Butch on the back.

"You can do it," she said. She grinned. Butch merely narrowed his eyes.

"Oh, come on, Butch!" Brick shouted suddenly. "We're asking you to out-drink a fucking animal! What are ya, scared?"

Butch snorted… then grinned. Blossom beamed and took a step back. She decided to thank Brick later for properly motivated his brother. Blossom held up her hands.

"On the count of three: one… two… THREE!" She dropped her hands at her side and they were off.

The Lumpkin knocked back his drink in one gulp as Butch tilted back and drank, not once stopping to take a breath. He finished and slammed the mug on the barrel. Blossom immediately refilled their glasses. They drank again, the Lumpkin downing it in one sip once more. Blossom soon realized she should set up more glasses as she filled their third, fourth, fifth, sixth drinks. The next thing they knew, Butch and the Lumpkin were guzzling down the booze like thirsty frat boys, not once taking a break. Blossom quickly refilled their mugs over and over again, grabbing several other glasses and setting them up to keep the flow.

Now the opposing teams were beginning to cheer their champions on, the lumpkins hooting and hollering, and Brick, Boomer, and Bubbles calling for Butch to chug.

"Come on, Butch! One more! One more!"

"You can do it, Butch! Chug! Chug! Chug!"

"Whooo, dawggie! Keep it up, ya yella-bellied swine!"

It seemed like ages before either drinker showed any signs of intoxication. The Lumpkin's body wavered to and fro dangerously, his grip on his mug slipping. Butch's cheeks were flushed and his eyelids began to droop over his bloodshot forest green eyes. If it wasn't the way he looked, it was his sudden happiness that made it obvious. He drained his forty-seventh mug, and dropped it on the barrel. It shattered, and he simply laughed.

"Heh heh, uh-nnnnother one, Bloss-Blossommmm. Heh. I broke it… ha…" Butch tittered to himself as Blossom wiped the glass off the barrel and placed another one in front of him.

So far, the score was even, Blossom personally making sure to keep it that way so the Lumpkin didn't jump ahead. As the contest dragged on, the audience became more and more anxious, especially Blossom. She didn't like that the Lumpkin seemed mostly conscious, even as they approached their sixtieth drink. They were even on their third barrel! She had no idea how much more Butch could have; she really had no clue how far his tolerance was, but she hoped she assumed correctly that it was much greater than hers or the others'. She was also hoping that she wasn't inadvertently endangering Butch, considering she wasn't sure whether they were subject to alcohol poisoning or not. She continued to watch them, pushing her worries aside and refilling their glasses.

All of the sudden, the Lumpkin made a strange noise. He belched, tightening his grip on his glass. Butch leaned back in his seat, letting the alcohol dribbling down his face. Blossom leapt over to stop him from falling backwards, not taking her eyes off his opponent. The Lumpkin did not take his sip, instead trying to keep his head from lulling to the side. His body wavered again. Blossom leaned forward, hoping the creature would finally faint. Much to her dismay, he grabbed the barrel to steady himself and fought his way through the sixty-eighth glass. Blossom begrudgingly refilled his drink and looked at Butch nervously.

The Lumpkin grabbed his mug, but didn't drink it again. Butch happily took his own glass and lifted it in the air.

"Come… come on, you sssstupid lump…kin," Butch slurred. "Either drink or… get… get offa the pot. Pfffffft…" He snickered and knocked his drink back.

Then, as fate would have it, the Lumpkin passed out.

The army of lumpkins roared as Butch stood up eagerly finished his sixty-ninth glass. He finished, tossed the mug aside and lifted his arms victoriously. He won. Blossom and Bubbles screamed with delight as Brick and Boomer zoomed down and lifted their brother in the air. The Lumpkin lay there, unconscious, as his fellow lumpkins groaned and attempted to drag him away. The heroes celebrated, and Blossom stepped aside and stood before the lumpkins confidently.

"We won!" She announced. "Now's the time to take us to your leader."

Amazingly, the lumpkins followed orders, leading the heroes to the entrance of the warehouse. Brick and Boomer helped Butch over, spotted by Bubbles, as Blossom led them through the crowd. One of the lumpkins pushed open the door, giving them a very dark look.

"Sekken floor," he garbled. Blossom smiled at him as they passed by. Bubbles nodded gratefully at him, and the lumpkin slammed the door behind them.


	11. Chapter 11 :: The Queen of Diamonds

**Chapter 11**

Maybe Blossom was just expecting something different, but the inside of the warehouse looked exactly that – the inside of a warehouse. Hundreds of large wooden boxes towered around the room up to the ceiling, barely lit by buzzing neon strip lights. At the opposite end of the room was an iron staircase leading up to a grate pathway. At the far end of the pathway was a simple door, with a light beaming through underneath. A few lumpkins lazed about the room, ignoring the heroes as they floated to the door upstairs. Blossom continued to lead the way, the others behind her switching jobs. Brick stepped up behind her as Boomer and Bubbles supporting Butch.

"You don'… hafta… carry me like this, guuuysss," Butch slurred. "I can fly all by mysssssself." Blossom glanced back at him, frowning. He grinned. "Bloss… Blozzom. Did you know… you got… goo… great… great hair. Shee-iiit. Pfffffft."

Butch giggled to himself. Brick shot him a nasty look, and nudged Blossom forward. They stopped at the door, and Blossom took a deep breath. She glanced at the others. She knocked.

_"Come in!" _

Blossom took another breath and pushed open the door.

This room looked more like what Blossom was expecting: a large, brightly-lit room decorated quite lavishly, with scarlet red walls and pitch black carpeting. In one corner lay a huge vanity, complete with dozens of make-ups and perfumes, next to a full-length mirror. In the other corner was a long, zebra-print chaise (much like the one in Princess's cell) with a matching armchair and footstool. Next to the armchair was a tiny side table with an old-fashioned rotary dial phone. In the corner across from the door was a tall fancy screen near a tiny closet, open and visibly crammed with clothing. It was almost disturbing how it seemed like they fell into an old Hollywood starlet's dressing room. What set this room apart, though, were the dozens of shelves lining each wall, all holding various showcases of jewelry. Rings, necklaces, bracelets, earrings… you name it! There had to be more diamonds and rubies and pearls here than even the best jewelry stores.

A blonde head peaked from the other side of the screen. Blossom and the others could only see the bleached bangs and overdone eyes. The blonde spoke.

"Helloooo?" she rang. Blossom frowned. There was something funny about that voice. It sounded… deep?

"We're here to see Gemma Pietra," Blossom said, ignoring her thoughts.

"Who are you?" the blonde asked.

"I'm Blossom Utonium," Blossom replied. "And these are my friends. I believe you are the Queen of Diamonds, and your 'sister' Colette has kidnapped my niece."

The blonde's head bobbed out of sight. There was some rustling, a glimpse of a stiletto heel from the side. Then, she spun out from behind the screen – and they all had to stop from crying out.

The Queen of Diamonds seemed to be channeling her inner Marilyn – she had the short curly blonde bob, the ruby red lips, the heavy eye makeup, a long flowing ball gown, and a feathery boa around her broad shoulders. Her breasts seemed comically enormous, perhaps because they were very obviously not real. She was thin – too thin – and it made her narrow hips stick out through the dress. It was the subtle lump on her neck that was the dead giveaway…

"Holy shit!" Butch exclaimed, his bloodshot eyes wide and mouth hanging. "It's a duuuude!"

"Excuse me?" the Queen of Diamonds growled, placing his hands on his hips. Boomer slapped his hand on Butch's mouth, doing his best to keep his brother silent. Brick bit his knuckles to stop from laughing. Bubbles gave Blossom a weary look. Blossom, though surprised by this insight, immediately composed herself and quickly tried to cover up for Butch.

"I'm so sorry, sir— ma'am! Butch, here, is, uh, a little drunk," Blossom chuckled nervously.

"Drunk?" Gemma scoffed. "What a sad sort for a troupe of supposed super heroes."

"So you know who we are?" Blossom asked.

"Of course!" Gemma laughed. She swaggered over to her chaise and lay down, the slit of her dress splitting across her large, shaven leg. Brick sniffled. Gemma didn't seem to notice. "Colette told me all about you. We had to do a lot of work after you screwed us all over. But I must ask: how'd you get past the lumpkins?"

"Drinking contest," Blossom replied, gesturing to Butch. Gemma grinned.

"Very clever," she giggled. "Maybe you're not so sad of a sort."

Blossom smirked. She looked at Brick, who still couldn't seem to speak up, his knuckles still clenched between his teeth. His eyes started watering as he held back his laughter. Blossom had to make this quick.

"Yes, I suppose," she continued. "So then do you know why we're here?"

"You want to know where your little girl went, I'm sure, right?" Gemma replied. Blossom nodded curtly. "Well, you know I can't tell you that, right?"

"We're willing to do whatever it takes," Blossom said as menacingly as she could.

"Is that a threat?" Gemma asked lightly, smirking.

"It might be," Blossom said. She folded her arms across her chest.

"Well, darling, I hope you know that no amount of physical assault will convince me to tell you anything," Gemma said matter-of-factly. He began picking at his long manicured nails. "Quite frankly, unless you're willing to offer me something shiny, I highly doubt there's any way to get me talking. But if you had that, you wouldn't be here in the first place, would you?"

"Gemma, we don't have time for this," Blossom said patiently. "Either you tell us where Bridie is or we will _make_ you tell us."

"Honey, if you kill me, I won't be able to tell you anything," Gemma giggled.

"Who said anything about killing you?" Blossom said. "That would defeat the purpose, as you said."

"So," Brick started, finally choking back his amusement. He started cracking his knuckles. "You gonna cooperate or are we gonna have to do this the hard way?"

"Ohh!" Gemma burst into laughter. "Tough guy, huh? Oh, please, baby, rough me up!"

"You dress-wearing, son of a—" Blossom grabbed Brick's arm, holding him back. He struggled against her grip. "I am _not _afraid to hit you, _MAN!_"

"Please, keep ironing my wrinkles out with your steamy remarks," Gemma taunted. "You might even get rid of my crow's feet."

"I'll get 'im!" Butch shouted suddenly, tearing out from Boomer and Bubbles grasp. The others swiftly grabbed for him, but he simply leapt in the air and crashed into the wall, knocking several shelves of priceless jewelry to the floor. Gemma leapt from his chaise with a gasp.

"YOU!!—"

"Sorry! So sorry!" Blossom cried out instinctively, as Brick and Boomer pulled their brother up from the floor.

"NOOOO!!" Gemma roared. "Those were my necklaces, made from the finest cut, naturally found diamonds imported straight from the Venetia Diamond Mine in South Africa! You clumsy oaf!"

"Wait a second," Blossom stared at Gemma, an idea forming fast in her brain. "Are _all_ of these jewels precious?"

"Precious?" Gemma hissed. "Precious to _me_! Now get your grimy, tasteless asses away from my things!"

"Your things?" Blossom smirked. "What do you plan to do to us if we… do something to your things?"

"I'll – I'll kill you!" Gemma squealed, stomping his foot on the ground.

"Really?" Blossom said slowly. She looked at the others, a smile growing on each of their faces (except Butch, who was already smiling madly.). "Even when we're impervious to most normal human attacks? You won't be able to shoot us or stab us or anything."

"I'll… I'll… I'll call the lumpkins on you," Gemma threatened, his voice quivering.

"Oh, we'd destroy everything before those buffoons even got up here," Blossom said, grinning.

"I'll… I'll…"

"Tell us where Bridie is, and maybe we won't feel the need to be… destructive," Blossom offered.

"I can't!" Gemma spat.

"You can," Blossom said.

"No, I can't!"

"Yes."

"No!"

"Yes."

"NO!"

"Alright…" Blossom shrugged her shoulders. "You asked for it."

With that, Blossom and the others simultaneously sent off a series of laser beams, each aimed at a different shelf. _TSSSSTTT! PWHOOOO! SHHHH! _Down came the jewels, shattering into thousands of pieces. Gemma collapsed on the ground, horrified, screaming at them.

"NO! NOO! PLEASE STOP! PLEEEEASE STOP!!"

"Tell us where Bridie is?" Blossom urged calmly.

"No! Colette will kill me!" Gemma whimpered.

"Alright, then another blast will have to do it—"

"NO!"

The heroes sent off another series of lasers, crashing more shelves to the ground. Sparkling diamonds glittered on the floor, remarkably like the tears glittering on Gemma's face. Blossom looked him over once more.

"One more will do it," she said casually.

"NOOOO!! PLEASE DON'T!"

"Where's Bridie, Gemma?" Blossom asked once again.

"I won't tell you!" Gemma wept.

"Are you sure?" Blossom feigned sympathy. "I really don't want to do this…"

"Please, oh, _please_ stop!" Gemma begged.

"Tell us where she is…"

"No!"

"Tell us."

"NO!"

"Okay…" Blossom smiled at the others once more.

"WAIT!"

Blossom turned back to Gemma. She smiled. Gemma sniffled and wiped the snot from under his nose. He dragged himself off the floor and onto the footstool. He trembled, the tears still pouring from his eyes.

"Alright, I'll tell you," Gemma sobbed.

"Good," Blossom said sweetly. "Where's Bridie?"

"She's with Jack," Gemma admitted.

"Jack who?" Blossom asked.

"I don't know his real name, I just know he's the Jack of Spades, Colette's right-hand man."

"But I thought you, Hearts, and Clubs were Colette's right-hand men," Blossom didn't even bother hiding the pun.

"No, we're allowed to have bosses under us, an 'Ace' or a 'Jack', mostly to help us do our bidding. All I know is that the girl is with Jack and they're headed to the 'Wonderland' in Texas." Gemma looked up at them miserably.

"The strip club," Brick chuckled.

"With Hearts," Blossom added.

Gemma nodded.

"How do we know you're telling us the truth?" Blossom asked suspiciously. Gemma looked around fearfully, and noticed one of his necklaces hanging precariously on a hook on the wall. He gulped. He slid over, grabbed it, and promptly broke it in his hands. Blossom's eyebrows rose.

"I guess that'll work," she said. "Besides, if you lied, we'll be back."

"What if I'm not here?" Gemma questioned.

"I'm sure we'll find you somewhere," Blossom said simply. She really didn't think Gemma was in the position to lie anymore anyway.

"Well, we'll be leaving now then," Blossom said with a warm smile. "We've got places to go."

"Wait," Gemma said. "Wonderland's only open on the weekend."

"Hm," Blossom nodded. "Thanks for that."

Blossom gestured the others out the door. She grabbed the door to close it behind her, but she stopped, remembering something. She turned around.

"Oh, and, uh, sorry to do this but—" Blossom blasted one more laser beam at the rotary phone, disintegrating it into mere dust particles. Gemma shuddered.

"Can't have you warning Colette ahead of time, mkay? See ya!"

Blossom shut the door behind her and followed the others out of the warehouse. She couldn't believe how easy that had been, though she doubted the other Queens would be any better. They zoomed past the army of lumpkins, now dozing in pale moonlight. It was early morning, and the heroes had to wait a day for Hearts' club to be open. Blossom decided they would rest somewhere. She sped up to the front and headed to the closest hotel they could find. Even if the others didn't want, she definitely needed some time to reflect on today's events, not to mention Butch would need some serious rest for the hangover he was bound to have in the morning.

***

Jack sighed, blinking rapidly to keep himself awake. It was night, and some of the other vehicles on the highway were blasting their headlights so bright they burned Jack's tired eyes. He would've killed to pull over and sleep, but he was behind schedule. He should've been past Fort Worth by now, but he was barely out of Arkansas. It's kind of difficult to lug an unconscious little girl around without looking suspicious. Jack made a mental note to lessen the dose next time – the kid had been out for over twenty-four hours. If she wasn't comatose, she would be waking up anytime soon. Jack was not looking forward to this.

_"Ohhh, baby, I love your way… wanna tell you I love you way…" _

Jack snatched up his slick, thin cell phone from the dashboard. He flipped it open.

"Hello?"

_"Hello, darling, how are you?"_

"Morning, Colette," Jack said quietly. "You're up late, eh?"

"_Well, I was very rudely awakened a few moments ago by my phone," _Colette explained simply.

"Oh? Gemma?" Jack presumed.

"_Naturally," _Colette chuckled. "_Turns out they're after us, afterall, and they're going after the girls first."_

"According to plan," Jack said.

_"According to plan, indeed,"_ Colette agreed. "Gemma sent 'em off to Lila's. So nothing's changed, I just thought I'd let you know."

"_Well, thank you," _Jack said.

"_No problem,"_ Colette sighed. "So how's the girl?"

"Still out," Jack replied, glancing over at Bridie buckled in the front seat. She sniffled, her head lulling to the side.

"_Still? Lower the dosage! We don't want her dead yet!_" Colette exclaimed.

"I will, I will," Jack groaned. "Alright, well, I'm fighting sleep here, so I'll let you go."

"_Where are you?"_ Colette asked.

"Uhh… approaching Fort Worth," Jack lied, just as a sign whizzed by: "Dallas – 100 miles. Fort Worth – 130."

"_Liar,_" Colette spat.

"Fine, just outside Mt. Vernon," Jack admitted. He didn't know how she did it, but Colette _always_ knew when he was lying. She knew when anyone was, for that matter.

"_Behind, aren't you?_" Colette guessed. "_Don't worry about it. You're doing a beautiful job! Go ahead and catch some shut-eye._"

"Thank you, ma'am," Jack said, sighing in relief.

"_Of course,"_ Colette cooed. "_Vive la victoire!_"

"_Vive la victoire!"_ Jack said. He hung up.

He drove another mile or two and made his way to the first truck stop. He pulled over some distance away from the other vehicles. Jack unbuckled his belt, readjusted his seat and kicked it back. He yawned. He glanced at his watch: 4:38 AM. It really was late, wasn't it? Jack snorted and set an alarm for 8 AM. Even if he did have the Queen's blessing to rest, he would rather get back to work as soon as possible.

Jack stuck his watch on the dash and lay back in his seat. He looked at Bridie. Despite his best efforts, Jack was actually worried about her. Not her, per se, but more so that if she was seriously hurt from Z overdose, the situation itself was in great danger. This kid really was the heart of the operation, and her safety completely affected the outcome. Thankfully, it wouldn't have been his fault – it would've been Evie's. To be honest, it might be worth it if the kid was messed up; that would be the end of Ms. Strike, and Jack never cared for her one bit.

Suddenly, Bridie snored. Loud. Jack jumped, fully expecting her to awaken. He cursed under his breath, figuring that, of course, the girl would pick now as the perfect time to wake up. Then, just as suddenly, she rolled over in her seat and continued sleeping. Jack exhaled. False alarm. He sniffed and lay back down. He could feel the sleep quickly start to consume him, and he happily obeyed the siren calls of dream land. He smiled to himself, the soft yet heavy blanket of slumber wrapping around his entire being.

Then –

"_AHHHHHH!!!"_ Bridie ripped off her seatbelt and slammed herself full-force into the roof of the car. Jack gasped back to consciousness, limbs flailing. Bridie fell back into her seat, still screaming at the top of her lungs. She looked around frantically, unsure of her whereabouts. She turned to Jack. She screamed harder – if it was possible! – her blood-curling cry reverberating around the car. Jack pressed his hands to his ears.

"CALM DOWN! CALM DOWN, KID, CHILL OUT! I SAID CHILL THE FUCK OUT!"

"_MOMMYYY!! DADDYYYY!! HELP!! HEEEELP!!! AHHHHHHH!!!!" _

"SHUT UP! SHUT THE HELL UP!!"

Twisting his neck painfully to keep guarding his fragile ears, Jack reached for the glove box. He tore it open and pulled out his handgun. He shoved it into Bridie's face.

"I SAID SHUT UP!!!"

It worked. Bridie's mouth slapped shut. She gulped, her big, teary sea-green eyes staring into the barrel of the gun. Jack smiled.

"Well," Jack huffed. He paused a moment to catch his breath. "Rise and shine, kid."

Bridie glanced up at him. Her lower lip quivered.

"So," Jack started slowly. "I'm going to put the gun down, and we're going to talk. Okay? Like grown ups. Okay?"

Bridie didn't reply. She glanced at him again.

"Okay?" Jack repeated. Bridie sniffled. She nodded.

"Good," Jack said. "Now, I'm going to slowly put down the gun…" He lowered the gun, pointing it away from Bridie. She didn't move, but her eyes followed the gun until it was on the dashboard next to his watch. She stared at it a second, and then she looked back at him.

"Okay, now—"

"_AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"_

"GOD DAMMIT, I SAID SHUT THE FUCK UP!" In a split-second, Jack grabbed the gun and pointed it back at Bridie. This time, though, she didn't stop screaming.

"_I WANT MY MOMMY!! MOMMYYYY! DADDYYYY!!!"_

"GOD DAMN FUCKING KID!"

Jack fired the gun. The bullet shot straight through the leather and caved into the door frame. Bridie gasped and cowered in the front seat. Jack pointed the gun back at Bridie.

"You're lucky I got silencer, kid," Jack remarked. "And you're lucky that this car is coated with several layers of Z-based paint, which means your little superpowers won't get you out of here. Now, I said shut the fuck up. You're gonna do that, right?"

There was no hesitation this time. Bridie held back a great sob and quickly nodded her head. Jack chuckled. He put the gun aside. He paused, waiting for Bridie to act out again. She remained silent. Jack put the gun on the dashboard and sat back against the car door.

"Alright," Jack said. "Now that we're _calm_ and not _freaking the fuck out_: hi."

Bridie whimpered. Jack smiled, trying to appear as nice as possible.

"Okay, you can talk, but no screaming or calling out for mommy," Jack said. Bridie wiped the tears off her face with her sleeve.

"So… your name… Bridie, right?"

"Where's my dad?" Bridie asked, her voice cracking.

"I don't know," Jack said with shrug.

"Where's my mom?"

"I don't know," Jack repeated, exasperated.

"Where am I?"

"Hey, a question I can answer!" Jack exclaimed. "Well, we're definitely not at home or anywhere near it."

"Who are you?" Bridie demanded.

"I'm Jack. I'm going to be babysitting you for a while," Jack grinned. Bridie's eyebrows lowered. Jack continued. "Do you know why you're here?"

"No," Bridie replied.

"Well, let me tell you," Jack clapped his hands together. "See, your auntie and uncle – Blossom and Brick, I think? – Well, they screwed over my… friend. We'll call her Queenie. They stopped Queenie from making a lot of money by putting that lady Princess in jail. Queenie wants her money back, and she wants your auntie and uncle to pay it since it's their fault for losing it. So, we're – uh – _watching_ you so we can make sure your family pays us the money. You're helping us; like a good girl. Cool, huh?"

Bridie's eye twitched. She frowned.

"So, until your family has the money and pays up, you'll be with me, kid. We're gonna have a lot of fun. So, what do you think?" Jack grinned again.

"…I think you're a douche bag."

"A dou—" Jack burst into laughter. Bridie folded her arms across her chest and gave him a dark look. "A – ha ha ha! – douche bag – ha ha! – kid, I think I'm gonna like you… ha ha ha!"

Then, Bridie rammed her foot into Jack's shin. He cried out, his laughter stopping immediately. He took a deep, shuddering breath, clutching his leg. Bridie continued glaring at him, her eyebrows furrowed dangerously.

"I wanna see my mommy, now!" she squealed.

"You little—I don't know where your f-f-fucking mommy is!" Jack stammered.

"Then I want my daddy," Bridie said.

"I don't kn-kn-know where your fucking parents are!" Jack moaned, pulling up his pant leg to see the enormous bruise already formed on his leg. He glimpsed at it and moaned again.

"Take me to them, or I'll scream again," Bridie threatened.

"You little shit!" Jack snarled. He cringed, desperately trying to endure the pain. "I just said I don't know where they are! And if I did, god damn, I'd fucking take you to them!"

"Liar," Bridie grumbled. Jack growled and reached for his gun.

"Go ahead and shoot me!" Bridie said. "I have super powers, remember? Mommy and daddy told me I'm immune to bullets."

"I-I-Immune to bullets?" Jack stuttered. "You are a little shit! Liar."

"Do it." Bridie taunted. "I dare ya."

Jack aimed his gun at her once again. He clicked back the hammer. Bridie glanced at the barrel, unfazed. Jack's grip faltered: either she was telling the truth or she was one fearless son-of-a-bitch. He couldn't hurt her anyway, or _he_ would have to pay. He begrudgingly clicked the hammer back up and tossed the gun aside.

"Told you," Bridie said. "I'm hungry."

"What?!"

"I said I'm hungry!" Bridie yelled. "Get me food!"

"You… high maintenance little…" Jack seethed.

"Get me some food or I'll scream again!" Bridie shouted. She took a deep, dramatic breath, preparing herself. Jack jumped up and placed a hand on her mouth.

"Nonononononono! Okay! We'll go get you some food," Jack said. He gingerly moved his throbbing leg to the side and kicked up the seat. He gave Bridie a very nasty look.

"What do you want?" Jack asked, starting the car.

"I want… McDonald's chicken nuggets."

"McDonald's?!" Jack cried. "I don't know where the closest fucking McDonald's is. There's a Burger King a few miles back…"

"I don't want Burger King, I want McDonald's," Bridie said.

"It's the same thing!" Jack said furiously.

"Is not!" Bridie argued.

"Is to!"

"Is not!"

"Is to!"

"No, it's NOT!"

"You shit!" Jack exclaimed, slamming his foot on the accelerator and roaring out of the truck stop. "Fine, we'll stop at the first fucking McDonald's we see, okay?"

"Okay," Bridie agreed. She sat forward and looked out the window, her tiny arms still locked across her chest. She bit her lip, holding back every urge to cry. Her eyes stung, and her tummy churned painfully, but she refused. If there was anything her parents taught her, it was to always stay tough in the scariest of situations. Never let the bad guy know you're scared. Besides, Bridie had no doubts that her parents would be looking for her right that very second. They had to be. That's just the way it was. They were super heroes, after all.

"You…" Jack zoomed down the expressway almost 20 miles over the speed limit. He was going to call Colette the first chance he got. He badly wanted to just drug the little brat again, but not right now. Any more Z would probably kill her, and no matter how he felt right now, he couldn't do anything to her.

The sun was just now rising, the golden light blazing into Jack's face. He pulled down his visor and glanced back at Bridie. He grimaced. He definitely wasn't getting any shut-eye now. Thanks to the sweet hell spawn next to him, though, at least his possibly broken leg would keep him up for a while.


	12. Chapter 12 :: Off the Handle

**Chapter 12 – Off the Handle**

Brick and Boomer heaved Butch through the hotel door as Blossom and Bubbles waited patiently behind. Butch was just rolling, happily slurring an Irish drinking song as he stumbled into the room.

"_I walk in the barrrr and the fellaaaas all CHEER! They order me uuuuup a whiskey and beer…_" Butch collapsed onto one of the two beds with a loud belch.

"How long is he gonna be like this?" Blossom asked, concerned.

"Oh, 'til he passes out," Boomer said, rolling his eyes. Blossom sighed.

"There's only two beds?" Brick remarked. He glanced at the other vacant bed with a frown.

"Did you pay for more?" Blossom laughed. "We're not exactly at the Hilton, you know."

"Yeah," Brick snorted. "I noticed."

They had gone to the first hotel they could find, and it was anything but luxurious. It was at least a step up from a motel, but from the looks of the roach traps barely hidden in the corners, it still wasn't pleasant. It did have two queen-sized beds, and even a small living space with a tiny couch. So, it wasn't too bad.

"You girls get the other bed," Brick said. He turned to Boomer and held out his fist. "Rock, paper, scissors for the sofa."

"Naw, come on! I always lose…" Boomer groaned.

"Hey, if you lose, you still get part of the bed!" Brick exclaimed. "You know, the part that isn't inhabited by Drunky McBeerfiend?"

"Dick," Boomer grumbled.

"Hey, you guys can have the bed," Blossom offered. "Bubbles can take the couch, and I'll sleep on the floor."

Brick and Boomer stared at her, horrified. Blossom looked at them kindly… then her expression fell.

"What?"

"We don't share a bed," Brick informed her.

"Totally unethical and immoral," Boomer added.

"…Okay… then we'll take the bed," Blossom said. She turned to Bubbles, giving her a strange look. Bubbles shrugged and smiled. The girls settled into their bed as Brick and Boomer threw fists for the sofa. As predicted, Boomer lost, and Brick leapt on the couch, kicking off his shoes. Butch sat up, running a hand through his hair.

"Duuude," he said. "I really need to see Buttercup. Like, now. In the bathroom. Yeaaahhh…"

"She isn't here, dum-bee," Brick yelled, exasperated. "You split up, remember?"

"…What?" Butch stared at Brick, utterly baffled.

"You walked out. Left. Dumped her. Moved on…" Brick fluffed the tiny little sofa pillow behind his head. Butch continued staring at his brother, the fear visibly growing on his face.

"I did WHAT?!" Butch cried out. The girls shushed him, and Bubbles jumped over to him. She put a hand on his shoulder.

"Butch," Bubbles said soothingly. "You and Buttercup split up, remember?"

"Oh, no!" Butch shouted. "No. No, no, no, no. What'd I do? What happened?"

"He doesn't remember?" Blossom asked Brick, shocked. Brick chuckled.

"'Course not. He drank three times his weight in moonshine, who would?"

"Nooo," Butch whimpered. He snorted loudly, and tears started pouring down his face. "No, we can't break up. We can't!"

"Oh, here we go…" Brick grabbed his pillow and shoved it on his face. Boomer sighed and scooted next to Butch to help console him.

"Emotional drinker?" Blossom commented.

"The worst!" Brick said, muffled through the pillow.

Butch wept, wailing like an injured dog. Bubbles and Boomer tried to talk sense into him, but he wouldn't hear of it.

"I fucked up!" Sob." I fucked up real bad, didn't I?"

"No, Butch," Bubbles said softly. "It was probably just… just a big misunderstanding. When we find Bridie—"

"NO!" Brick suddenly yelled.

"OH MY GOD! BRIDIE!" Butch howled, sobbing into Boomer's shirt. Boomer patted his brother's shoulder half-heartedly. Blossom then had the nasty feeling this wasn't the first time Butch had been overwhelming devastated. This was, however, the first time she and Bubbles had ever seen him like this. In fact, they had never seen _any _of the boys so uncharacteristically upset. Blossom had to admit – the image was jarring.

"We're never gonna find her!" Butch moaned. "She's gonna be dead, DEAD! And it's all my fault… all my fault…"

"No, Butch," Bubbles said firmly. "It is _not_ all your fault. We're going to find Bridie, Buttercup should be joining us soon, and we'll get this all settled."

"Blossom, turn on the radio!" Brick called over Butch's cries. Blossom eagerly rushed to the small radio on the bureau and quickly flipped to a good station. Unfortunately, due to their rather isolated location, none of the stations showed up. The few stations that did, though, were all indistinguishable. Or country. Blossom wasn't sure if this was a time for harmonicas and steel-strings, but then again, he _was_ drunk…

"…_but if you love him, you'll forgive him. Even though he's hard to understand…_"

"No." Brick said.

"YES!" Butch cried. "Yes, leave it, leave it! Sing it to me, Tammy!"

"_STAND BY YOUR MAAAAN! GIVE HIM TWO ARMS TO CLING TO…"_

Blossom and Brick groaned as Butch heartily sang along to the song, sniffling with each staggered breath. They had no choice but to let him sing himself to sleep, Bubbles curling up at the foot of the bed and Boomer letting Butch cling to his arm. Blossom, though, had had enough. She would apologize in the morning for this, but she needed to sleep. She slipped under the covers, placed the pillow over her ears, and tried to drown out Butch's hound dog howls. She hated to admit it, but now she understood why Buttercup hated it so much when he drank…

***

"Ughhh…" Buttercup inhaled, her eyes fluttering open. She immediately felt it: she was heavier -- a lot heavier -- like she was wearing several pounds of weights all over her body. She was sore all over, making the sudden feverish feeling much worse. She took a deep breath, which immediately felt like someone jabbing a thousand needles into her lungs. She gasped, and began to cough. Then, a cold, hissing voice spoke.

"Mornin', ssssleeping beauty!"

Buttercup blinked warily, and then rolled her head forward. She gasped again, stabbing her aching lungs. Several faces stared back at her, all mocking, all heartless, and all green. For the first time in years, Buttercup was staring at the five familiar faces of the Gangreen Gang. They were all much older: Snake was much taller, much lankier, and his slit-like eyes glittered; Grubber was frighteningly thin, his bug-eyes bulging more in his sunken-in sockets; Big Billy was still monstrous, but his hair had grown quite a bit and his clothes actually seemed to fit today; Little Arturo looked exactly the same as the other day, and of course, Ace was smarmier than ever. What distressed Buttercup more was the chain-link fence in front of them, padlocked in the middle, stretching from floor to ceiling, wall to wall. Clearly, she was in some type of makeshift cell. She panicked. Instinctively, she tried to lift herself to crash through the fence, but… nothing happened. Nothing. It was a strange feeling; it was as if she forgotten how to fly. Or the mechanisms weren't working…

"Huh… Uh… Ace…" Buttercup croaked. She tried to stand up, but once again, nothing happened. Her feet twitched, her nerves simply not wanting to work with her. She strained to move her legs, but they were lead: heavy and immovable. Buttercup whimpered, only one idea floating around in her otherwise addled brain: she was paralyzed.

"Heh… help…" Buttercup whispered.

"Well, well, well… finally decided to wake up, eh?"

Buttercup's head snapped up. Between the boys swaggered in another familiar face. Her short brown hair fluttered around her heart-shaped face as she approached the fence with a cruel smile. The pulse in Buttercup's neck began to race.

Strike reached into her pocket and pulled out a set of keys. She took her time finding the right key, putting it in the padlock, and slowly twisting it open. She handed the lock to Arturo and entered. She strolled up to Buttercup, who wanted nothing more than to reach up and strangle the vicious bitch in front of her. She wasn't sure if she could do anything, though. To be honest, she wasn't even sure where she was or what was going on at all.

Strike knelt down, pulled out a pistol, and held it up to Buttercup. Buttercup winced. Strike pressed the gun against Buttercup's throat and slowly lifted up her head. The two stared at each other, dead on. Strike grinned.

"So, I think it's safe to say that baby girl is the spitting image of mommy dear, yeah?" Strike giggled as the Gang behind her chuckled. She placed her gun back in her holster, but didn't stop looking at Buttercup. Buttercup had no idea what she was talking about for a second. Then—

"Huuuhhh-Bridie!" Buttercup choked.

"Yeah, your brat!" Strike said. The Gang's laughter rose, as if they were having a grand ole time.

"Speaking of which," Strike continued. "You know, she was out for over twenty-four hours? I honestly wasn't sure when _you'd _wake up, but considering you and the brat had the same dosage, and obviously you're, um, _a lot _bigger, I was hoping it wouldn't be as long. Sure enough, you were less than a fraction of the time."

"Where… where is she?" Buttercup demanded, trying to gather strength with each word. Her voice was barely a whisper.

"Tell me," Strike started, ignoring her question. "What's it like to be powerless?"

"Puh… powerless?" Buttercup repeated, mystified.

"Uh, yeah, you're pumped full of Z. The tranq wore off fast, but the Z… that'll last at least another day…"

Buttercup rolled her eyes. That was it – Z. Buttercup _was_ powerless, literally. This was what it felt like to have all the chemical X in her system perfectly balanced. She wasn't gonna lie: she didn't like it one bit. Buttercup clenched her teeth and attempted to lift herself up again. She realized she _could_ move, but not well. Her legs moved less than an inch, and her arms could barely leave the floor. Strike laughed at her.

"Oh, the mighty fall hard, don't they?" Strike commented. She turned around. "Hey. Get this chick some water. We need her talkin'."

Ace reached into a package of water bottles against the wall nearby. He pulled on out and tossed it. Strike caught it, opened it, and held it in front of Buttercup. Buttercup lifted her arm to grab it. She twitched again. Strike pulled the bottle away, smiling.

"That the best you can do?" Strike asked, raising an eyebrow. Buttercup's eyes twitched. She sniffed.

"…bitch…"

"Ouch." Strike chuckled. She poured some water in Buttercup's mouth, and Buttercup drank reluctantly. The water was only lukewarm, but it was medicine down her dry throat. She cleared her throat and swallowed a few times.

"Better?"

Buttercup took a steady breath, but did not reply. Strike rolled her eyes, capped the water bottle, and tossed it aside. She stood up and leaned against the fence. She glanced behind her.

"Um – everyone but Ace, get the hell out of here," she commanded. Snake led the others out of the room, leaving Ace lingering on the other side of the fence. He reached in his pocket, pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, and lit up.

"So, talk to us, Buttercup. Not much else you can do anyway, right?" Strike smirked.

"Fuck you," Buttercup rumbled, her voice still not quite ready to work. Thankfully, her mind was beginning to settle down. She was slowly getting back into her usual mindset. Incredibly, though, she felt a certain coolness, different than her usual short-temper.

"Come on, now, you better play nice or we'll put you back to sleep," Strike warned. "You don't want that, do you?"

"What… what do you want from me?" Buttercup asked, licking her cracked dry lips.

"Well, two things," Strike said, holding up two fingers. "First, we need to keep you here, because you know, one less super fighting us, the better. Second, information, of course! Exciting, huh?"

"…how old are you?" Buttercup asked. "You're like… twelve…"

Suddenly, Ace snickered. Strike straightened up and threw a dirty look at Ace. She turned back to Buttercup and put her hands on her hips. Buttercup smiled weakly.

"That's none of your business," Strike replied curtly.

"Ace… dude… you need to stop with the jailbait stuff. That'll get you locked up, you know…"

Ace stopped laughing, but he continued to smile, blowing a small stream of smoke between his lips. Strike looked very uncomfortable.

"Where's the rest of your family?" Strike asked, changing the subject.

"You tell me," Buttercup said. "Where's Bridie?"

"Again, none of your business," Strike said.

"But she's my kid, so yeah, she really is my business," Buttercup said. Her voice was clearing up, though she could've done with more water. She really was slipping back into her normal self. She grinned.

"Fine, I'll rephrase the question – where are your sisters and the Rowdyruff Boys?" Strike pressed. "Or at least, what are their plans on getting your kid back?"

"You know," Buttercup chuckled. "I have no fucking clue."

"Oh?" Strike said. "So, you didn't know that they were going to trash the Flush warehouse in West Virginia? And you didn't know that they're headed to Texas now as we speak?"

"For real?" Buttercup said, sincerely interested.

"You really didn't know?" Strike reiterated, in utter disbelief.

"Look," Buttercup started slowly. "I don't where my sisters are, I don't know where my ex and his shitty-ass brothers are, and I don't know where my kid is. Clearly, you know way more than me, so why don't you just leave me the fuck alone?"

"Bullshit!" Strike cried. The pace of her voice quickened as she became more anxious. "You know more than you're letting on."

"I don't," Buttercup said. "I really don't. You caught me before I could do anything. You know what happened after I found out Bridie was gone? I had a nervous breakdown. I went and cried like a pansy, went to the bar to drink my sorrows away, and then I ran into you. The rest is history."

"You're lying!" Strike yelled. "Don't make me pump more Z into your system! I can kill you easily while you're drugged, you know! Now tell me what you know!"

"I don't know anything!" Buttercup laughed. She looked at Ace. "What the fuck's wrong with her?"

"She's lying, Ace!" Strike shouted. "Lying!" She rammed her elbow into the fence. Her chest began to heave as her anger rose. To Buttercup's mild surprise, this girl was literally losing her cool with every trembling breath.

"I'm not lying," Buttercup repeated.

"Yes, you are!" Strike roared.

"She's not," Ace said quietly. Strike whirled around to face him. Her nostrils flared. Ace shrugged his shoulders and took another puff off his cigarette. "I'm telling you, she's completely cool. She doesn't know anything."

"Thank you!" Buttercup called out.

"BULLSHIT!" Strike screamed. "What the FUCK am I supposed to tell Colette, Ace?! What?! Tell me what I'm supposed to tell Colette!"

"You tell her you got her hostage and she doesn't know anything," Ace replied matter-of-factly.

"What?! This is bullshit!" Strike kicked the fence; she was so furious her face reddened. She bared her teeth, ripped the fence door open, and stomped out of the room. She barked back back over her shoulder.

"Lock the bitch back up!"

Ace remained still, silently smoking his cigarette. Down the hall, a door slammed shut, angry footsteps fading into the distance. Buttercup raised her eyebrows. She looked at Ace.

"What's _her_ problem?" she asked. Ace laughed.

"Same as you," he replied.

"That little girl has her own little girl that got kidnapped?" Buttercup guessed. "Nice."

"Ha. No," Ace shook his head. "Severe anger management issues."

"She's an idiot! Did you see that? She completely flew off the handle!" Buttercup cried. She took another deep breath. She looked down at her body for the first time since she woke up – she was still in her pajama bottoms and tank top. She was then surprised to realize she had a huge metal cuff on her right ankle attached to a chain, which was then attached to the wall. She chuckled, thinking that she could escape from this easily. Then she realized she had no longer had powers, at least as long as she was on Z. She swore.

"I'm surprised you haven't yet," Ace said pensively. He dropped his cigarette and stomped it out. "Freaked out, that is." He stepped to the gate and slipped into the cell. He snatched the water bottle from the other side of the cell. He unscrewed the cap and sat next to Buttercup.

"You know," Buttercup said suddenly. "I'm surprised, too. Oh, I'm pissed, but nowhere near as pissed as I should be."

"You're taking this hostage thing quite well, really," Ace laughed. He gestured at the bottle and Buttercup nodded her head. Ace tipped the water down into her mouth, and she drank. She could feel the water energizing her limbs already. They tingled softly.

"The Z'll be gone in a few hours," Ace informed her. "You'll be able to move around, but not much else. It'll paralyze you first, then each extra dose will just numb the X."

"Is that how this shit works?" Buttercup asked, twiddling her fingers.

"Yep. Paralyzes you, then once your system gets used to the first hit, every succeeding dose just makes you normal – if that's what you can call it…" Ace explained. "Apparently it evens out your temper, too. Go figure."

"Honestly, I don't think it's the Z," Buttercup said quietly. She eyed Ace.

Ace looked away. Buttercup wasn't sure what he was thinking, but he almost seemed… ashamed? He licked his lips and didn't look her in the eye. Buttercup smirked.

"Where is she, Ace?" she questioned. "Where's my daughter?"

Ace did not reply. He sighed and stood up. He gave Buttercup a weak smile. He headed out of the cell, pulled the lock out of his pocket, and slapped it on the door. He flipped back a stray lock of hair from his face, looking back at Buttercup.

"She's alive," Ace said. "She'll be okay."

"You ass," Buttercup said right away. She could feel a twinge of that familiar fury.

"I'm know," Ace said with a sly grin. With that, he turned on his heel and left.

Buttercup waited for the door to close ahead She wanted to yell back at him, but she didn't have the energy. She breathed, slow and steady, for several minutes. Now that Buttercup had a chance, she quietly took in her surroundings: yes, she was in some type of cell, and from the musty, woody smell, she was in a basement with a lot of molding crates. There was one tiny window above her head, but she could only tell by the small square of sunlight in the floor in front of her. Her cell had a few dirty blankets, a large bucket presumably for bathroom breaks, and a case of water. From the looks of it, they planned on keeping her here for a while.

Suddenly, without any warning, Buttercup felt the tears streaming down her face. She choked back a particularly painful sob, not wanting her cries to reverberate around the basement and echoing back to her captors. She already knew she was in an agonizingly vulnerable position; no need to show it. She couldn't kid herself. Of course she was angry! Of course she was upset! She was scared, worried, anxious, depressed, exhausted, everything! All at once! The only problem was that she was, for the first time in her life, so completely overwhelmed with emotion, she couldn't pick which one to feel. Instead, she felt like an empty vessel, leaking stinging liquid down her face and containing heavy cement in her chest.

How strange these feelings were. Buttercup felt like she had no control over any part of her being. Her emotions ping-ponged around her brain, unattainable with any conscious effort. Her body may as well have been a giant sand bag. She was powerless in almost every way. She just sat there. Motionless, disconnected, numb. She almost felt non-existent, or only partially so.

Like a ghost. Or maybe simply a shadow.

***

Several hours later, Buttercup was breathing much better, both because her lungs had relaxed and because her limbs had finally started working again. They still felt much heavier than she was used to, but at least she could move. With a lot more effort than she thought possible, Buttercup was able to push herself off the ground and lean against the brick wall. She could peak out the window if she stood on her tip-toes, but that would require a lot more energy than she had at the moment. She was already exhausted. It had to have been past noon now, and she desperately wanted something to eat.

Buttercup heard the door open then close down the hall. She sank back to the floor as Ace slithered down the hall carrying a small paper bag. He reached the fence, and he seemed to notice that Buttercup looked better (if you could say that.) He slipped off his sunglasses and smiled.

"How ya feelin'?" he asked. Buttercup smirked.

"Hungry," she replied. Ace shook the bag.

"I figured," he laughed. He quickly unlocked the gate, entered the cell, and sat down across from Buttercup. He started opening the bag, and Buttercup sat up. Ace pulled out a few slices of bread and hunk of cheese. Buttercup chuckled.

"Prison cuisine? Really?" she exclaimed, her voice still a little crackly.

"Yep," Ace grimaced. "Complete with room temperature, cheaply bottled water. They'd kill for that in hell, you know."

Despite herself, Buttercup chuckled.

"Can you move?" Ace asked. Buttercup gingerly lifted her hand and waved.

"Good, you can feed yourself," Ace said, dropping the bag on her lap. Buttercup tore right into it, shoveling the bread and cheese together into her mouth. Ace reached over and grabbed a bottle of water for her. Buttercup nodded graciously.

"So," Buttercup started, swallowing another mouthful of bread. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

"I have to," Ace said simply. "I'm on guard-duty with you. And I don't see why there should be such hard feelings, you know?"

"Oh, great," Buttercup snapped. "I'm excited."

"You don't seem too upset about it," Ace chided.

"Why should I be?" Buttercup asked. "It's just one more thing I have to deal with." She crumbled the empty paper bag and half-heartedly tossed it aside. She did have more energy now, but she was still too achy to do anything else. She snorted. If this was what normal was, it was simply too much work.

"I guess you're right," Ace agreed. "I mean, how were your last few days exactly?"

"Why the hell do you care?" Buttercup cried. "You're part of this whole fucking thing anyway. Part of it's your fault."

"I don't know, I just—"

"No!" Buttercup spat. Her anger rose, and the dark feeling felt wonderful burning through her veins. She almost missed being pissed. "No, I know why you're being nice to me. You think it's just GREAT being in control, huh? You love being more powerful, especially more powerful than me."

"Did I say that?" Ace asked, his eyes flickering.

"You don't have to!" Buttercup hissed. "It's always been this way, for as long as I've known you. Whenever you have the upper-hand against me, you're just walking on sunshine, aren't you? Well, fuck you, and fuck your nasty little bitch, too. She's kinda cute for a trashy piece of shit."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Ace said, holding out his hands defensively. "Now, this is the Buttercup I know, but don't you think you're, uh, _flying off the handle a bit_?"

"Bastard."

"You are, though. Besides, I don't have to be nice to you if I don't want to," Ace warned. "And for your information, it's not a power thing at all. Actually, I'd say you were my equal now."

"Equal?" Buttercup laughed. "I will always be better than you."

"Maybe it's that attitude that got you here in the first place," Ace shrugged. "Maybe instead of trying too hard to be some 'great warrior' or something, you wouldn't have fallen so hard, would you?"

"What?!" Buttercup exclaimed, outraged. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"You said it yourself," Ace explained. "You had a nervous breakdown and that's how we got you. If you were a little more… oh, I don't know, _balanced _instead of trying to be so mighty all the time, your breakdowns wouldn't get you into vulnerable positions."

"What are you, a shrink?" Buttercup demanded. "Where did all this – this – psychoanalyzing shit come from?"

"Just being around for about thirty years," Ace smiled. "You learn a thing or two about the people in your life."

"Go away," Buttercup barked. "I don't wanna see your ugly mug anymore." Surprisingly, Ace complied, pushing himself up and heading towards the gate. He looked at Buttercup.

"I'll be back later for dinner," Ace said. "And another shot of Z. It'll be all worn off by tonight, and we can't have you bursting out of here, can we?"

"Go!" Buttercup yelled, her voice cracking. Ace sighed. He left the cell, locking the gate behind him. Without a second glance, he headed down the hall and out the door in the back.

What was he talking about? Buttercup was totally confused. She knew Ace, better than she should. He was just ridiculously happy to be superior to her, to be in control of her, and he was going to take advantage of it. Buttercup knew it. He did it once, and he broke her heart. He tried to do it again, and she broke _his_ heart (and self-respect). She wouldn't have it this time. But what was she going to do? Break out of her cell, bust the cuff on her ankle, and beat him up? Yeah, with what powers? She could barely stand up let alone beat someone to death.

Buttercup shrieked and shoved her arm back. She slammed her elbow into the wall, and she immediately cried out in pain. She clutched her arm, clenching her teeth tight. She drew in a long, deep breath, and after a moment, the pain subsided. She sniffled… then smiled. That was weird – she can't remember when it hurt so much to hit your funny bone. After all she's been through physically, it was… different… to feel like this.

Buttercup sighed, resting her arms on her lap. She knew exactly what she was going to do about this: think. She was going to think about how to get out of this. That was an even weirder notion. When was the last time she really thought long and hard about anything?

Now _that_ was something she definitely could not remember.


	13. Chapter 13 :: Into the Shadows

A/N -- Boring chapter is boring. Sorry to warn you, but this one might need serious re-editing. Hope you like it and prove me wrong.

**Chapter 13  
**

It was a very unpleasant afternoon: Blossom was rudely awakened by the sounds of Butch retching in the bathroom. Brick was lying on the couch clutching his pillow over his nose and mouth. Blossom gagged, the smell of vomit and alcohol wafting through the room. Blossom leapt up from her bed, one hand over her nose, and hurriedly opened each window.

"Thank you!" Brick said enthusiastically.

"Ughhh…" Butch's groan rumbled from across the room. Bubbles rolled over in the other bed next to Boomer, who immediately threw the covers over his head. Blossom tore apart the room for air freshener. Miraculously, she found a tiny can in the side table, and she quickly sprayed it all over the room. Brick snorted.

"Great! Now it smells like lemon-fresh puke!" he exclaimed.

"Sorry!" Butch apologized. He groaned once more, and there was a muffled plopping sound as he heaved some more. Blossom frowned.

"Breakfast, anyone?" she suggested.

"You've gotta be kidding me!" Boomer roared under the blanket. Bubbles sniffled again and sat up.

"There's food downstairs, right?" she asked. "Or, at least, out of this room?"

"She's gotta point!" Brick said happily. He tossed his pillow aside, grabbed his shoes, and darted out of the room. Bubbles slipped the covers off Boomer and gestured him to the door. He sighed, and the two followed Brick out the door. Bubbles glanced behind her on the way out.

"You coming, Blossom?" she said with a short nod. Blossom shrugged her shoulders.

"I'll meet you down there," she said. "I have a thing… I gotta do…"

Bubbles's eyes widened nervously, but Blossom gave her a very stern look. Bubbles smiled warily, and then left.

Blossom quietly floated over to the bathroom. She peaked in. Butch was sprawled on the tiled floor, one arm curled over his eyes. He hiccupped. Blossom tried her best to ignore the stench, simply wrinkling her nose. She spoke to him.

"Um, Butch?"

"…Yeahhh?..." Butch cleared his throat.

"Thank you for doing what you did yesterday," she said carefully. "I appreciate it."

"Uh… no problem? Not that I remember that much…" Butch wheezed out a tiny laugh.

"Well, you performed magnificently!" Blossom said earnestly. "I'm sure that, um, considering the circumstances, even Buttercup would've been proud."

"Huh." Butch slowly sat up and rubbed the gunk from his eyes. He looked up at Blossom, his eyes bloodshot. He took a deep breath. He exhaled.

"How badly did I fuck up?" he questioned. "Be honest."

"Well," Blossom was taken aback. Honestly, she didn't expect this at all. "Like I said, you did just fine last night. I mean, it's not the best talent out there, but at a frat house or something—"

"You know what I mean," Butch said pointedly.

"Well, I… I think…" Blossom sighed. "Yeah, Butch. You did mess up."

"This is my fault, isn't it?" he added. He smiled, but his eyes lowered.

"I wouldn't put it that way," Blossom said. "I'd say it was just… really bad timing. Maybe."

"Maybe," Butch repeated. He leaned against the bathtub, his head on the ledge.

"Where is she?" Butch asked. "Buttercup."

"No idea," Blossom said, rubbing her arm comfortably. "I was thinking the same thing myself. If she went home, the Professor would've called. Or she would've. Or something."

Blossom hadn't the time to think about it since Tuesday, but she was definitely worried about her sister. More than that! This wasn't normal at all. Buttercup should've gone home, and she should've been with them now. But what were they to do? They couldn't split up and go find her. They needed her here, though. Bridie was hers and Butch's child, after all. Regardless, Blossom was still concerned with the whereabouts, and especially safety, of her sister. Butch seemed just as concerned, too. Blossom's heart sank as she watched his expression darken. She didn't know much about their relationship besides the fact that it was a passionate as it was rocky. That fight was pretty bloody, though. But maybe the situation but things into perspective? A petty argument is absolutely nothing compared to the loss of a child.

Blossom reached in her pocket and pulled out her bubblegum pink cell phone. She flipped it open and held down the number two button: speed-dial for the Professor. It rang.

"_Hello_?"

"Hey, Professor!" Blossom said sweetly. "How are you?"

"_Blossom!_" The Professor exclaimed on the end. _"Hi, sweetheart! I'm fine, how are you? How is everything going?_"

"Heh, well…"

Blossom joined Butch on the floor, and she told the Professor all about the past few days' events. The Professor reacted appropriately, gasping and cheering at the right moments. Butch smirked when he heard the Professor congratulate him on winning the drinking contest. Blossom beamed at him, too. When she finished, she went into the purpose of her call right away.

"Any who, Professor – did Buttercup ever come home?" Blossom asked carefully. She was afraid to hear his answer.

"_Well… no…_" the Professor replied softly.

"I didn't think so," Blossom said sadly. Butch's lips tightened. He pressed his fingers against his temples.

"Okay, well, if you hear anything, let us know straight away," Blossom ordered.

"_Of course, honey,_" the Professor said. "_Oh, God, I just hope she's okay…_"

"Me, too, Professor," Blossom agreed. "Me, too."

She said good-bye to him, exchanged I-love-you's, and hung up. She bit her lip. Butch slid his hand down his face. Blossom shifted in her spot as she noticed the tears in his eyes. He pursed his lips. Blossom had to force herself to remember he was sober right now.

"Just between you and me," Butch started slowly. "I never thought something like this would happen to me. Especially not with _her_, of all people. And I never thought I wouldn't be able to handle losing my kid and my girlfriend at once."

"Yeah…" That was all Blossom could muster.

"Don't tell my brothers about this," he said. "Especially Brick. He's already bent out of shape about all this."

"I won't," Blossom promised. She wondered if Butch remembered that he had already showed his feelings last night. She wasn't going to ask.

"I won't fuck up this bad again," Butch vowed. "Never again."

He blinked. The tears finally gave way and slid down his cheeks. He sniffed and wiped them away. Blossom smiled at him weakly. Butch cleared his throat, stood up, flushed the toilet, and left.

***

"Wakey, wakey!" Strike rattled on the fence, startling Buttercup awake. She had passed out a few hours ago, after sitting there deep in thought for a long time. It was after dark now, as indicated by the pale white moonlight on the floor. It was almost pitch black, save for the moonlight and a dim yellow light down the hall. Buttercup wiped some drool off her chin and glared at Strike.

"Time for your hit," Strike laughed, holding up a loaded syringe. Buttercup narrowed her eyes.

"Fuck off," she said.

"Not yet," Strike cooed. She unlocked the gate and stepped inside. Buttercup jumped back, her body now fully energized. She scooted into the corner, her ankle twisting slightly against the short chain. She huffed. Of course! She almost forgot she was chained in as well as imprisoned. Strike giggled heartlessly.

"Where are you gonna go?" she asked. "You can crawl away from me."

"You know, just because I don't have my powers doesn't mean I forgot how to fight," Buttercup growled. She reared up a leg, ready to kick. Strike swiftly pulled out her pistol and aimed it at Buttercup's knee.

"Yeah, but you're not bullet-proof anymore and I remember how to shoot," Strike retorted. "If you don't take this, I will shoot you, no regrets."

"Why don't you?" Buttercup asked. "What do you need me around for?"

"Because if your sisters _do_ happen to get your kid back, we have you for extra collateral," Strike replied.

"Man, you guys are full of it," Buttercup rolled her eyes. "No class at all."

"Shut up and take the shot," Strike said, gun in one hand, syringe in the other. Buttercup eyed the gun, then the syringe, then Strike.

"I hate you," Buttercup seethed.

"Thanks!" Strike laughed. "You're too kind!"

Strike flicked the cap off the syringe, and took a small step towards Buttercup. She aimed her gun at Buttercup's face, trying to make sure she wouldn't pull a fast one.

"Can I ask you a question first?" Buttercup asked suddenly.

"Why?" Strike said shortly.

"I just wanted to know why you're such a fucking hard-ass," Buttercup answered. "Like seriously, I think you might jump the gun more than I do."

Strike stood there, flabbergasted. Buttercup smiled to herself. Strike shrugged her shoulders and shifted awkwardly.

"Because I'm a fighter," Strike replied matter-of-factly. "The best. Better than any Marine, better than any wannabe _super hero_. Nobody fucks with me because they know I'll fuck them up worse."

"…You're twelve, right?" Buttercup laughed. Strike's lower lip curled.

"Nineteen," she corrected.

"Man, Ace really out-did himself with you!" Buttercup exclaimed. "I mean, when we got it on, I was barely eighteen, and you know, he was like… madly in love with me. But that was a bust, so I'd've thought he'd go younger. Easy to con, right? Heh."

"Excuse me?" Strike snapped. "Oh, like he'd be with someone as… as inferior as you."

"Ha! Seriously!? He didn't tell you? Aww, what a prick! I can't believe he didn't tell you about me! He must not take you seriously, does he?" Buttercup laughed uproariously, almost driving herself to tears. Strike's hands shook furiously.

"You don't know _anything_, you worthless sack of shit!" Strike grumbled.

"Oh, probably not," Buttercup agreed heartily. "But as for the last part – takes one to know one, kid."

"I'm not a kid…" Strike seethed.

"Whatever you say, baby!" Buttercup said with a shrug.

"I'M NOT A BABY!" Strike roared.

"Okay! I believe you!... Kid."

Strike fired the gun. Buttercup dodged, throwing herself to the other wall. Strike shrieked and fired again. Buttercup rolled once more. She glanced up, horrified.

"DON'T MAKE ME KILL YOU!" Strike screamed. She fired once more, missing Buttercup completely. Buttercup, despite all her best efforts, cowered in the corner.

There were some fast footsteps, and Ace dove into the cell. He grabbed Strike and pulled her away, holding her right arm away from Buttercup.

"Chill out! Chill out! Chill out!" he repeated quickly.

"I will KILL her! I'll do it! Don't make me!" Strike struggled against Ace, but he held her tight against him and rubbed her arm. He spoke into her ear, trying to calm her down. Strike whined, but after a few seconds, shockingly, she stopped shouting and fighting. She breathed shakily for a moment. Ace turned her away. Buttercup saw him kiss her gently on the cheek. Strike simply handed him the syringe and stormed off. Ace turned around, a disappointed expression plastered on his face. He clicked his tongue and stepped into the cell.

"You egged her on, didn't you?" Ace guessed.

"She SHOT at me!" Buttercup exclaimed. "Anything I said shouldn't NOT have made her SHOOT at me!"

"You already said yourself – she flies off the handle in a heartbeat," Ace reminded her.

"Yeah, but I didn't think she was Yosemite Sam!" Buttercup commented.

Ace rolled his eyes and knelt down next to her. He flicked the syringe a few times to get rid of the bubbles. He tapped the plunger, and a short stream of liquid shot out of the needle. He held it up to Buttercup.

"You have to take this," Ace said.

"Why?" Buttercup demanded. "Why can't you just kill me?"

"If you don't take this, we will kill you. And that means you'll never see Bridie again."

Buttercup stared at him.

"If you take this," Ace continued. "There is still a chance you might see your daughter."

"You make it like that's a possibility," Buttercup said quietly.

"Ehhh… it could be," Ace said, smiling. "We don't know."

"Whose side are you on?" Buttercup asked suspiciously.

"Mine," Ace replied. "But let's not rule out anything that _could_ happen in the future."

"…You manipulative jackass."

"Hold up your arm," Ace commanded. Buttercup sighed. She looked away and held up her right arm.

"Hold up your arm," Ace repeated.

"I am," Buttercup said. She looked at her arm— and gasped.

It was gone. Her right arm was literally _gone_. She looked from where her finger tips should've been her shoulder, which was a dark blue due to the shadowy light. Buttercup gasped again and jumped up. Ace scooted back, unsure of what he was seeing. Buttercup stood up and whirled around, looking all over the floor as if her arm would just be lying in plain sight. She reached out with her left hand, grasping at the empty space near her right shoulder. It touched nothing, swiping through the empty air. Buttercup whimpered.

Ace, having no idea what else to do, grabbed Buttercup's other arm and jabbed the needle into her arm. Buttercup cried out and fell against the wall. Ace stepped away to avoid any possible backlash. And then – her arm reappeared. Buttercup panted, waving her right arm around and touching the wall, her leg, her face, her other hand. She whirled around. She stared at Ace.

"What just happened?!" she asked, her voice high and hysterical.

"I-I-I don't know!" Ace stammered. He looked away and hurried for the gate. He exited the cell, locked it, and headed out of the hall. Buttercup called back at him.

"What did you do, Ace?! What happened?!"

The door slammed. Buttercup tried to step over to the gate, but her chains held her back. She roared and collapsed to the ground. She clutched herself, tightly squeezing both her arms against her chest. She honestly had no clue what just happened. What the hell? Her arm literally just disappeared into thin air. But how? And why? Where'd it go? What happened to it? Buttercup didn't know. It was as if it just went invisible, sank into the shadows.

…into the shadows…

***

There wasn't much else to do for the rest of the day, so Blossom and the rest of the gang slothed around the hotel. Butch spent most of the afternoon and evening out on the porch by himself, sobering up and littering the ground with cigarette butts. Bubbles and Boomer sprawled out on each bed with their eyes glued to the TV set. They rarely spoke to each other, and when they did, it was mostly inane comments about the show or a complaint about commercials. Brick, unusually quiet, sat on the couch and flipped through a newspaper.

Clearly, they were incapable of anything remotely interesting at the moment. Or, as Blossom personally felt, each were distressing in their own arbitrary ways. Blossom took this opportunity to sit in the café in the lounge downstairs. She sat by herself in a corner, sipping some over-sweetened coffee and scribbling away in her journal. She stayed there until well past sunset, and after almost ten pages of rambling, she stopped and stared out the window for some time. She would've normally taken the time to think, but… she didn't. She simply gazed at the horizon, basking in the cool moonlight beaming through the window onto her hands.

"You've down here for a while."

Blossom looked up. Before she could say otherwise, Brick scooted the other chair back and took a seat across from her. He ruffled his hair and smirked. Blossom momentarily noticed his hair was not gelled again. She smirked back.

"Well, had to kill time somehow," she said, tapping her journal.

"I will get to read it someday, right?" Brick asked. Blossom didn't answer. Instead, she watched him reach into his pocket and pull out a small container. He flipped it open. He pulled out a chestnut-brown cigar and immediately bit the end off. He spit it into Blossom's empty cup.

"You smoke?" Blossom questioned, narrowing her eyes.

"Gotta kill time somehow," Brick laughed. He held the cut end of the cigar near his mouth. He huffed, lighting it with his own fire breath.

"Nice," Blossom chuckled. She almost forgot he had fire breath, too. Brick nodded and took a big puff off the cigar. He smiled.

"So when can I read it?" Brick asked again.

"Nosy," Blossom chided.

"Yeah, at least I admit it," Brick said simply. He took another puff.

Blossom inhaled. She smiled, suddenly thinking about the Professor. The fresh, spicy scent of the tobacco brought back several memories she almost forgot. She suddenly thought of waking up for school, the golden sunlight glowing on her face and the smell of coffee, pancakes, and, of course, pipe tobacco, wafting up to her room. The Professor always prepared wonderful breakfasts, though it didn't happen as often during high school. Her memories then flipped to the Professor sitting in his easy chair with his glasses and pipe, reading the newspaper as the girls watched cartoons nearby. Then she remembered him coming up from the lab, pipe in hand, helping Blossom and her sisters get ready for bed. He would help them into their nighties, watch them brush their teeth, and tuck them into their respective spots on the bed. He would hug them, and then plant a soft, warm, bristly kiss on their foreheads.

"You okay?" Brick interrupted her thoughts. Blossom sniffled and looked back at him, flustered.

"Nothing, I'm fine. Just... just spacing out, I guess," Blossom replied, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

"Yeah," Brick said with a wary smile.

"Did you need something?" Blossom asked. She shuffled in her seat.

"No, you want me to leave?" Brick retorted. He frowned.

"No, no, just, I don't know. You can stay, I just..." Blossom sighed.

"God, you're weird," Brick commented.

"I'm sorry," Blossom said quickly. She paused to pull herself back together. "The smell of your cigar just reminded me of the Professor. That's all."

"I remind you of the Professor?" Brick's eyebrows furrowed.

"No, the cigar, not… not you," Blossom lost composure once more. She looked away from him, twiddling a strand of hair between her fingers. She then made the horrifying realization that, in a way, yes, Brick reminded her very much of the Professor. She tried to reason this. Brick was nowhere near as nice or kind-hearted as her father, but the two shared something in common. Perhaps it was their way of expression? Both presented themselves as rational, level-headed, intelligent… and somewhat formal, especially in their attire. Underneath his lab coat, the Professor usually wore nice dress shirts and slacks, precisely what Brick wore himself, though in darker colors. Regardless, at their best, both Brick and the Professor were shrewd leaders; at their worst, overzealous and prone to rage.

Blossom gulped. The Professor and Brick should _not_ be connected in her head.

"Blossom? Hello?" Brick waved a hand in front of her. Blossom jumped. Brick snickered, tapping some ash into Blossom's mug.

"You are so out of it."

"I'm just tired," Blossom said finally. "It's been a long week."

"It's Thursday," Brick thought. "It has been a long week, hasn't it?"

"Yeah…" Blossom stared at him, determined not to space out again. He actually did this time, looking curiously at the wall for a second. He looked back at Blossom. He caught her gaze, but said nothing. He took another puff.

"Would you ever wear contacts?" Brick asked suddenly.

"What?" Blossom shook her head, puzzled.

"Would you ever wear contacts?" Brick repeated. "To hide the pink?"

"No, probably not," Blossom replied. "Why do you ask?"

"So you look normal," Brick answered, shrugging a shoulder.

"Brick, your eyes are _red_," Blossom chuckled.

"Yes, but I'm a bad guy," Brick reminded her. "Bad guys looked cooler with red eyes. It makes us scarier." He widened his eyes with a goofy smile.

"But you're not really 'a bad guy' anymore," Blossom said slowly. "Not really."

"Just because I'm working with you doesn't mean I'm suddenly a good guy," Brick stated, pointing his cigar at her. "I'm on your side right now, but that doesn't mean I'm a changed man. I'm sorry my brothers are a bunch of pushovers, but the only reason I'm in on this is because my life is at stake, too. Don't. Forget that."

Blossom stared at him. Then, her face hardened. Her lips thinned into an empty expression, and her eyes narrowed coldly.

"Well, I guess I won't," Blossom spat.

"What?" Brick growled. "You expect something else?"

"No, I just thought..." Blossom bit her lip. "You know, I don't know what I thought."

"I don't know what you thought either," Brick said. He licked the tip of the cigar; it sizzled and went out. He tucked it back into the case and slipped it back into his pocket. Blossom sighed. She tossed a few crumbled dollars onto the table and stood up.

"I'll see you back in the room," Blossom said coldly. With that, she grabbed her bag, turned around, and hurried out of the café.

Brick stared after her. He was only mildly surprised by her reaction. She probably thought all this teamwork would suddenly make him into a fruity, law-abiding, up-standing citizen. Brick snorted. Like that would ever happen. Sorry, this was just the way he was, and he liked "bad" too much to convert. Sometimes being bad was the only way to get what you wanted. Or needed, for that matter. Without some cold-hearted manipulation, for example, Brick would never have been able to make Blossom run away from him, outraged, or, in her outrage, forget her journal on the table. Brick grinned. He grabbed the notebook and slipped it under his shirt. He stood up. He leisurely made his way back upstairs, quickly planning his actions ahead. He would worry about Blossom's panic later.


	14. Chapter 14 :: Show Time

**Chapter 14 – Show Time**

"Where is it?!" Blossom shrieked. It was the next morning, and just as Brick predicted, she was in full post-journal-loss fury. She ripped the drawers off the side table in her frantic search, scattering splinters of wood and phonebook paper on the carpet.

"Where's what?" Bubbles asked.

"My journal! I can't find my journal!" Blossom cried. She leapt away from the table and started ripping the covers off the bed. Bubbles stepped behind her sister and carefully replaced the drawers. Blossom hurried to the other bed, and Bubbles quickly took care of the bed sheets, too. Boomer and Butch stood in the doorway, staring at Blossom, uncomfortable. Brick peeked out from the bathroom, mouthful of toothpaste. Blossom looked up just in time.

"Brick! Where's my journal?! Did I leave it downstairs?" she questioned, pulling the cases off the pillows.

"Uhhhh-I don't know. I don't remember," he replied calmly. Blossom looked up at him again. She lowered her eyebrows.

"Are you _sure_ you don't know where it is?" Blossom pressed.

"Are you _sure_ it's not in your sack?" Brick snapped back. He floated back into the bathroom. "Check it twice, Santa Claus."

"Santa Claus?" Blossom grumbled under her breath. She groaned and zoomed out of the room in a flash of pink. Butch and Boomer jumped away, narrowly avoiding her rocket past. She reappeared moments later with another groan.

"They didn't see it when they cleaned up last night," she cried.

"C'mon, quit losing your shit over it," Brick said smoothly as he finally left the bathroom.

"For your information, Brick, all I do is lose shit!" Blossom roared. "And frankly, I'm sick of it."

"Yeah, well, we need to go," Brick reminded her.

"Not 'til I find it!" Blossom dove onto the floor, peering under the beds for the twelfth time now.

"Blossom, we _do_ have to go," Bubbles agreed. "It's almost noon."

"But—"

"Blossom."

Blossom jumped up, hovering several inches off the floor. Bubbles gave her sister a soothing look.

"We need to go," Bubbles repeated quietly. "It's just a journal, don't worry about it."

"But—"

"Bridie?" Bubbles said simply. Blossom dropped a few inches. She glanced at Butch, who frowned and looked at his feet. Blossom's feet touched the floor.

"Come on," Bubbles said, gesturing towards the door. Blossom paused a moment to compose herself. She then grabbed her bag and floated over to her sister. The boys hurried out the door, Bubbles and Blossom drifting out a few seconds later. Brick led them to the front desk, checked them out of their room, and they were on their way.

They did not waste any time with this trip: they were in Texas less than an hour later. They needed plenty of time to scope out the area, and just as the Don promised, the search didn't look enticing. The Chihuahuan looked like any other desert: hills upon hills of sandy nothing, with olive green plants sprinkling the dusty ground, the occasional wimpy excuse of a leafless tree, and the highways nearby seemingly steaming with nonexistent water. It was scorching hot, and without any clouds for cover, the team had to search on foot. (They couldn't risk the chance of someone seeing them flying around in the sky). The sand seemed to sizzle beneath their feet, and the dry air may as well have been baking their skin. Butch, for one, was glad to have the shortest hair, though the black hair made his head feel like a stove-top.

After only an hour, they had to take a break. Boomer downed an entire bottle of water in one go, and Brick dumped his onto his head. Blossom drew in a long, painful breath, mentally revving up for a pep talk.

"It's—" She took another breath. "—okay, guys. We—" Pant. "—just need—" Pant. "—to keep—" Pant. "—going."

"Fuck this," Butch gasped. "It's too hot."

"Blossom," Bubbles whispered. "You have ice breath. Do us a favor."

"Yeah!" Blossom exclaimed. "I do, don't I?"

"Ice breath?" Brick snorted.

Blossom drifted a few feet away from them, took a long, deep breath, and blew. A cloud of ice crystals flurried off her lips and snowed down upon them. It was like hopping into the freezer, and the five happily basked in the cold, refreshing wind. Bubbles shivered as a few snowflakes dribbled down her neck. Brick grinned.

"I forgot you can do that," he said happily. Blossom did not return the grin.

"I just never used it on you nicely," she said simply. She zipped forward and continued on her way.

Brick thought nothing of it, but Bubbles, for one, caught the sudden snippiness. She watched Brick lumber behind her sister, noticeably acting cooler than usual. Did something happen? She considered mentioning her concern with Boomer, but then she realized she wasn't really talking to him right now. She glanced at him. He trudged a few feet away from her next to Butch, barely noticing her at all. She frowned. Bubbles thought it was strange how badly they all seemed to be getting along with each other at the moment. It really did seem split back into the Rowdyruff Boys and the Powerpuff Girls… just like old times, right? Though, Buttercup _still_ hadn't joined them. Bubbles stomach flipped. Where could her sister be? She didn't have her phone on her, so they couldn't call her, and the Professor did say he would call when she came home. Blossom already called once, so no need to call again. Bubbles still wanted to know the whereabouts of her sister. She rubbed her stomach. She had a nasty feeling it wouldn't stop churning until she did hear from Buttercup.

The hours rolled by, and the ice-breath breaks happened more often than not. Blossom's throat actually started to burn, a side-effect that never occurred before. Then again, she never used her ice powers this often. She was probably the most grateful when the sun finally hit the horizon, casting a blood-red glow on the desert plane. The temperature dropped magnificently, and the team almost simultaneously sighed in relief. Blossom looked up, and saw that the sky was sufficiently dark enough for them to fly again.

"Alright, we can stop this trampling through the sand now," she announced. "I imagine we'll have better luck in the skies."

This time, they really did all simultaneously sigh in relief. They spiraled up into the sky and began their aerial search, Butch and Boomer facing south, Bubbles to the east, and Brick to the north. Blossom, however, was beyond impatient: she flew higher than the others and gave herself full view of the entire desert within in a several-mile radius. She focused on a spot far away, and her eyes adjusted in the darkness. It didn't adjust like normal eyes, though: she was utilizing her X-ray vision. Her sight flickered into perspective, and the colors faded into a heavy Chiaroscuro grayscale. She did one grand sweep across the land around her, and as luck would have it, she detected some life a few miles northwest.

"There," Blossom said, pointing ahead. "I see something underground."

"How?" Butch shouted back at her. Blossom blinked, her vision returning to normal. She smiled at him.

"X-ray vision," she replied. Blossom didn't need her special vision to see Butch's dumbfounded look. The others heard them and zoomed over to Blossom.

"Why didn't we try that in the first place?" Butch asked irritably.

"Someone might've seen us," Blossom answered with a shrug.

"And we couldn't just beat the living daylights out of the poor sap?" Butch demanded.

"No, 'cause we're good guys now, remember?" Brick laughed, winking at Blossom. Blossom's lip curled.

"Let's just go," she grumbled.

She took off towards the spot, the others tailing close behind her. She landed on the ground several yards away. Blossom dropped to the ground, the others following suit upon landing, just as a black, stretch limo rumbled down a dirt path ahead. It stopped near a small dip in the land. The driver hopped out of the vehicle and trotted to the back passenger door. He opened it, and out of the limo stepped a young woman, no more than eighteen, with curly blonde hair and, by the looks of the dangerously tight tube top, obviously large breasts. Butch made a noise that made Bubbles smack him hard on the arm. Blossom gave him a nasty look and continued to watch the girl. The girl glanced at her cell phone and swore loudly.

"I'm late!" she yelled. She reached into her huge purse. She pulled out a pair of white bunny ears and hastily put them on her head. She nodded at the driver and hurried into the dip. She kept repeating to herself, "I'm late! I'm late! I'm late!"

Brick couldn't contain himself. He burst into laughter just as the driver hopped back into the limo and drove off. Butch howled with him, and even Boomer cracked a smile.

"I think this is it," Boomer chuckled.

"Yep," Blossom said, nodding. She looked around quickly, and then stood up. She was about to zoom off towards the dip, and then she felt a sharp tug on her pant leg. She whirled around.

"What? What are we waiting for?" she hissed.

Brick and Butch looked at each other knowingly. Butch smirked, as Brick stood up and dusted himself off.

"Clearly, you've never been to a strip club," Brick said. Blossom dropped to the ground and stepped over to Bubbles.

"Why would _we_ ever have to go to one of these?" Blossom asked, folding her arms across her chest.

"I don't know," Brick said, shrugging his shoulders. "But then it means you have no idea how to get ready for one. Watch – and learn."

Butch stood up next to his brother. He ran a hand through his hair and suddenly did a quick turn. He stopped and took a big whiff. He frowned.

"I reek," he admitted. Brick sniffed his armpit.

"That we do, brother," he said, his nose crinkling. "But we don't have time to shower…"

"Clothes!" Butch exclaimed. He peered down at his sweaty muscle shirt and baggy jeans. He looked back at Brick.

"Yes!" Brick said, holding a finger up in the air. "First we change, then we spray ourselves with body spray, and I think that's about as good as we're gonna get."

"Um, hey!" Bubbles cried out. "What about us?" She gestured to her, Blossom, and Boomer. Brick scoffed.

"Change and spray. Works for you, too" Brick answered. He turned to Boomer. "Don't think you're not included."

"Do I have to go in?" Boomer asked, rubbing his neck. He was still sitting on the ground, feet and bottom planted firmly to the dirt. Brick groaned.

"For Chrissakes, Boomer, if you're gonna be a woman, do something useful and grow some tits, why don't ya?"

"I hate you," Boomer grumbled, before pushing himself up and floating over to his brothers. Butch reached into his bag and tossed Boomer some folded up clothes. Boomer examined at them briefly, then sighed. Brick looked up at the girls.

"Get dressed?" he said.

"Wha—Right here?!" Blossom stammered. "In the middle of the desert?"

"Who's lookin'?" Butch asked. He then slipped off his shirt and proceeded to change his clothes right there. Brick and Boomer turned around and followed suit. Blossom and Bubbles turned away politely, and then looked at each other.

"This is ridiculous," Blossom whispered crossly.

"You're telling me?" Bubbles whispered back.

The two were suddenly very grateful for high school gym class, for it was there that they mastered the art of changing your clothes without showing your underwear. The girls quickly changed into another set of clothes, and turned back around before Boomer could finish pulling up his pants. Brick and Butch were already spraying themselves with cologne. Blossom began throwing on some simple make-up. She glanced at Bubbles, who just glanced into a compact mirror. She never wore make-up if she could help it. Instead, she pulled out a small bottle and sprayed some on her and Blossom.

"This is not going to be a fun night," Blossom stated, snapping her compact shut. Bubbles shook her head and folded her arms. She slipped the body spray back into her bag.

The boys turned back to the girls. Surprisingly, the boys didn't look half bad. And they smelled better. Brick was classy, as usual, but Butch actually looked nice in a modest black long-sleeve. Boomer looked okay, if a bit smaller considering he was wearing one of Butch's button-up shirts, who was naturally more muscular than his brothers. The girls glanced at each other and noticed how underdressed they were: Blossom wore a turtle neck with pants, and Bubbles a graphic tee with jeans. Brick seemed to think otherwise, as he smiled and stepped towards them with his arms open.

"Girls! You're beautiful!" he said heartily. Blossom's eyebrow rose.

"Say that again and I'll knock the smile off your face," she threatened. Butch perked up.

"Buttercup?" Blossom rolled her eyes.

"Can we _go_ now?" she huffed. Brick, Butch, and Boomer paused to look at themselves. Then, they nodded to each other. They looked back at the girls.

"Yeah, we can go in now," Brick said.

"And you call _us_ girls…" Bubbles snickered.

Brick ignored her comment, and instead led them towards the entrance. The actual entrance looked discrete enough, considering it really was just an opening the size of a manhole in the ground. Blossom momentarily wondered how they kept it from filling up with dirt, considering how many dust storms probably swept through the area. It was clear, though, upon descending the wrought-iron spiral staircase that the place was kept in tip-top shape. There was barely a hint of sand as they approached the dark, UV-lit lobby. The thumping dance music pounded through the ground as they reached an enormous man – the bouncer – dressed in a red suit with tiny white heart-shaped buttons. Brick was surprised there was no line – perhaps it was _that_ exclusive?

"Who are you?" the bouncer rumbled, looking at them like he was looking at the bottom of his shoe.

"Bubbles," Bubbles answered before the others could stop her. Brick's eyes narrowed as he slowly turned to give her a cruel look.

"Oh, so you're auditioning," the bouncer said.

"Yes!" Brick said, his eyes suddenly sparkling.

"No!" Boomer snapped. "No, she isn't."

"Wait, what?" Bubbles whispered. Brick inhaled sharply and held out his hand.

"Yes, Bubbles is auditioning," Brick confirmed. He gestured at Blossom. "And Blossom is here for a waitressing job. The rest of us are just paying customers." He smiled.

"Alright, $500 for the auditioning house fee and an additional $500 to enter," the bouncer said.

"Excuse me?!" Blossom blurted.

"Each," the bouncer added.

"You're nu—" Brick shot his hand over Blossom's mouth. He then reached into his back-pocket, pulled out his wallet and presented a MasterCard.

"Do you take debit?"

The bouncer gave him a nasty look. He stepped away from the door and pressed a small heart-shaped button in the wall. It lit up, whirred for a split-second, then a small ATM screen, complete with card slot, flickered onto the wall above the button. Brick's eyebrows rose.

"Nice," he muttered. He proceeded to get the money out of his bank account, and afterwards, he thrust the $2000 dollars into the bouncer's open hand. He slipped an extra bulk into his chest pocket. The bouncer smiled, and Blossom noticed several golden teeth in the man's mouth. He unlocked the solid steel door behind him.

"Ladies report to the bar on your left, boys – have a nice time."

The bouncer opened the door and after a sharp push from Brick, the five entered the club.

Blossom felt her cheeks flush the moment she stepped in. It was a strip club, all right, but definitely inspired by classic, cabaret dance halls with a kinky Alice in Wonderland twist. The dancers pranced around wearing eye-poppingly colorful corsets, their make-up wild and equally bright, and their stiletto heels tall and mismatched. Most of the girls wore red, in honor of the _rouge_ _reine_, though a few were dolled up as characters from Carroll's story: one girl sitting at a table smoking a hookah was the Caterpillar, painted dark blue, with a fluorescent orange tube top, mini-skirt, and fuzzy-tipped antennae; another girl with cat ears and a magenta tail grinned as she slithered down a pole, obviously the Cheshire Cat; and two girls danced together onstage, one with an emerald green top-hat and the other with long white rabbit ears and a fluffy tale, the Mad Hatter and the March Hare respectively. Many of the other girls had already stripped down to almost nothing, their breasts exposed, frilly red thongs, black tights, and their terrifying stiletto heels.

The scent of smoke, sweat and liquor made Blossom nauseous. She could barely see through the cigarette haze, but she could make out the dark silhouettes of the customers, all dressed in formal attire and most of them obviously over the age of forty. Several gentlemen lined the stage, slipping $20 bills into the girl's clothes and sipping over-sized martinis. They clanged their glasses together and laughed uproariously, strangely blending seamlessly with Madonna's hit "Into the Groove." They were having a grand ole time, and it seemed the dancers themselves lived to make it so.

"I can't believe we're doing this," Blossom roared over the music.

"Wait, Brick!" Bubbles pulled Brick next to her and stared up at him, alarmed. "What am I auditioning for?"

"Oh, you're gonna be a dancer," Brick answered simply.

"WHAT?!" Bubbles and Blossom cried out simultaneously.

"No! I am NOT a stripper!" Bubbles yelled. "I won't do this! I – I _can't_ do this!"

"Brick, don't make her do this," Boomer piped up. "She doesn't even know how to dance like that, anyway!"

"Not to mention it's _demeaning_!" Blossom added darkly.

"Come on, Boomer," Butch said. "It's probably the most naked you'll see her."

Boomer's faced flushed, visible even in the dim club light.

"Well, maybe if you didn't tell him who you _were_, like an idiot, you wouldn't have to," Brick said darkly. "I had to cover up for you somehow, didn't I?"

He stood up to his full height, almost a head taller than Bubbles She didn't seem to care; her face sank into a frighteningly uncharacteristic scowl.

"I am _not_ going to do this, Brick," she said slowly, her voice quivering. "And _you're_ not going to _make_ me."

"I won't let you." Blossom stepped next to her sister, giving Brick an equally dangerous look.

"You won't make a scene here in the club," Brick said coolly.

"Oh, we won't?" Blossom grimaced. The girls took a menacing step closer to Brick. Suddenly, Butch stepped in.

"Hey, guys!" He pushed his way into between the three of them. He turned to Bubbles, looking her straight into the eyes. "Bubbles, please. Bridie."

Bubbles glared at him, though her expression faltered slightly. Butch smiled weakly. Then he brightened.

"Hey, I'll even help you!" he said happily. "I'll coach you through this. Trust me – I've spent enough time in these places to know a thing or two."

"Oh, time you should've been spending with your family?" Bubbles retorted. Butch's smile dropped momentarily. He forced his smile back on.

"Yeah, probably, but that's beside the point," Butch said quickly. "You _have_ to do this. We need someone on the other side; like a spy! To get information so we can find Bridie -- your niece -- your sister's daughter. We _need_ you to do this, Bubbles. Please?"

"No," Blossom answered for her.

"Don't do it," Boomer urged.

"Please?" Butch begged.

"I already paid for it," Brick reminded.

"You don' have to do this, Bubbles!"

"No, Bubbles. Just say no!"

"Please!"

"Do it!"

"Okay!" Bubbles squealed. She took a deep breath, and calmly exhaled. She looked at Butch. "Okay. I'll do it. Tell me what I need to know."

"No, Bubbles!" Blossom scolded.

"Blossom, I'm doing this, okay?" Bubbles said. "I…I want to."

"Are you sure?" Blossom pressed. Bubbles nodded. Blossom heaved a great sigh. "I hope you understand what you're getting into…"

"Great!" Brick exclaimed. "Blossom! Boomer! Let's get a table."

"What about my 'waitressing job?'" Blossom asked, indicating the quotes with her fingers.

"Psh, we just had to give you a reason to be here," Brick said with a shrug. "Now, let's go."

Brick led Boomer and Blossom off, Blossom giving Bubbles a wary glance on the way. Butch took a step back and carefully looked Bubbles from head to toe. She looked around anxiously, trying not to make eye contact with him. No need to make the situation more awkward. He clicked his tongue.

"Damn, you're skinny," he said.

"Thanks?" Bubbles grumbled.

"Nah, it's a good thing," Butch laughed. "You got the build. Are you shaved?"

"'Scuse me?" Bubbles voice cracked.

"Shaved," Butch repeated. "Or, you know, waxed?"

"Where exactly am I supposed to be shaved, Butch?!" Bubbles demanded, her voice on the verge of hysterics.

"Okay, okay, okay!" Butch spluttered. He paused, and then regained his composure. "Look – let's just have one of the girls take you back and help you get ready. When you're onstage, just pay attention to the other girls and see what they're doing. I'll come by and help coach you if I have to. Sound good?"

"No!" Bubble whined. "This is gonna be _so_ bad…"

"You'll be fine!" Butch reassured her. "I know it! Now, uh… let's find someone who can help…" His voice trailed off, as he glanced around the room for an available dancer. That was the problem with strippers: they were always doing something, or at least looking like it. Part of the job, Butch guessed. He spotted a familiar face at the bar. It was the buxom blonde from earlier who seemed to be late for work… and wearing bunny ears. She appeared to be fully dressed up now in full rabbit garb, with the ears, tail, and white corset. She had a pocket watch attached to her sequined belt, so she was probably the White Rabbit. Butch grinned.

"Hey, bunny!" Butch called. He grabbed Bubbles' arm and dragged her to the bar. The girl whirled around in her stool, one perfectly trimmed eyebrow raised. She looked at Bubbles. Her expression darkened.

"Can I help you?" the girl asked, her voice soft and mousy.

"Yeah, hi," Butch started, trying his best to sound smooth. "My friend here is auditioning tonight and she needs some help. Thank you can do something with her?"

Suddenly, the girl's face lifted. She beamed.

"Oh! A new girl!" she said brightly. "Yeah, honey, I can help you!"

"Great!" Butch exclaimed. "Here – take her!" He nudged Bubbles over to the girl. Bubbles stumbled over her feet, almost colliding with the girl as she stood up. She took Bubbles' hand and smiled at her.

"I'm Haydee," she said. "Or you can call me the White Rabbit. As long as it's not 'Bunny.'" She eyed Butch. He smirked.

"I'm Bubbles?" Bubbles whimpered.

"Hey, that's cute!" Haydee giggled. "So, what's your real name?"

"…Bubbles…"

"No, really…"

Butch watched as Haydee led Bubbles towards the green room door, continuing their conversation. He waited until they were safely out of the hall, and then he strolled over to the table with the others. They were seated close to the stage, Brick looking around disinterested, Blossom and Boomer looking surlier by the second. Butch plopped down between his brothers and stretched his arms back behind his head.

"She's gonna bomb," Butch said simply.

"It's your guys' fault," Blossom chided.

"Hey, like I said – she had to say her name to the bouncer," Brick said. "We had to do some fast thinking."

"You could've said we were _both_ waitresses," Blossom retorted. "Then she would've saved you money."

"Nah," Brick shook his head. "This is more interesting."

***

"Hey, Miss Delamer?"

Haydee slowly stepped into the dressing room. It was surprisingly modest compared to the rest of the club, with a large vanity, a small plush couch, and some costume accessories strewn about the room. It didn't need to be lavish – Lila had all the luxury she need at her home a few miles away. This was just work; no need to be fancy backstage.

At the vanity, Lila, Queen of Hearts, carefully applied her crimson red lipstick. Haydee could not see her face, Lila's golden blonde mane blocking her reflection in the mirror. Haydee cleared her throat.

"Miss?" she called again.

"Yeeees?" Lila said, her voice sing-song. "I heard you the first time, Rabbit."

"Sorry," Haydee said quickly. "Um, the new girl is here. She's auditioning? I'm gonna help her out and then send her on one of the side stages."

"New girl?" Lila snapped. She twisted her lipstick closed. "I don't remember anything about a new girl."

"Well, maybe you forgot?" Haydee suggested, twirling one of her curls nervously.

"Maybe," Lila agreed. "It's not _my_ job to remember these things."

"Yeah…" Haydee smiled, relieved she didn't accidentally say something wrong. She eyed the edge of Lila's vanity. A long silver dagger, with a bronze handle and a ruby heart on the guard, glittered in the lamplight. As the Queen, she carried it around as a kinky toy, but supposedly she had used it more than once. She probably did – all the dancers knew she was affiliated with the mob. This made most of the girls wary of ever crossing their boss, and Haydee definitely chose to follow the crowd on this one.

"Anyway," Haydee continued. "Um, her names 'Bubbles.' She's short, really skinny, and she's a blonde."

"Wow, what a creative name," Lila said dryly, grabbing her perfume and spritzing the air above her head. She flipped her hair from side to side. "What's her real name?"

"She just said Bubbles," Haydee replied. Lila stopped in mid-hair flip.

"Her real name's Bubbles?"

"Yeah," Haydee answered.

"Are you serious?" Lila chuckled. She sprayed some more perfume in the air and stood up.

"Yeah," Haydee repeated. "She came with a bunch of guys and another girl."

"Wait a minute…" Lila paused. She looked at her reflection curiously. "Is the other girl a redhead?"

"Yeah," Haydee repeated again. "So's one of the guys."

"The other two have blonde and black hair?" Lila questioned swiftly.

"Yes," Haydee said, exasperated. She was awfully tired of repeating herself.

"Good," Lila said with a smirk. "Now, go help the new bait."

"Uh, okay…" Haydee happily opened the door and slipped out of the room.

Lila sat back down and opened one of the small drawers on her right. She pulled out a small tube filled with a colorless gel. She glanced at it, made sure it was the right stuff, and then twisted the cap off. She grabbed her prized dagger, fondly running her fingers over the razor sharp edge. She then carefully applied the slick gel to the knife. The gel slid across like oil, generously lubricating the shimmering blade. After a good two or three coats, Lila stopped to admire her handiwork. She grinned.

"Show time."


	15. Chapter 15 :: The Queen of Hearts

**Chapter 15 – The Queen of Hearts**

Back in the dance hall, a waitress dressed strangely (compared to the other workers) in a white button-up and black slacks came by the table and delivered them their drinks. Brick and Butch both got one of the pricey margaritas, Boomer got a Pepsi, and Blossom stuck with water. What she really wanted was as much alcohol as possible, but that was beneath her. She would never sink that low, even if she _was_ uncomfortably sitting in a nudie bar. She cringed at the term.

"Cheapskate," Brick mumbled under his breath as Blossom took a sip of water. She glared at him.

"No, I'm just not thirsty," Blossom retorted. "What do you care? Less you have to pay."

"I'm really not worried about money," Brick said calmly.

"You know, you never told me how you became so filthy rich," Blossom commented, stirring the ice cubes in her drink with her straw.

"I killed a bunch of low-lifes and made _buco_-bucks as a mobster," Brick explained, grinning. Blossom's mouth hung slightly.

"…seriously?" she asked quietly. Brick's eyebrow rose.

"Or I'm a damn good businessman," he said. "You tell me."

Suddenly, Butch spit all over the table. Brick made a noise, and he and the others scooted back in disgust. Blossom quickly began mopping up the table with some napkins.

"What the hell, Butch!" Brick exclaimed, wiping his shirt vigorously. Butch pushed his margarita away from him, his tongue hanging out of his mouth.

"I can't drink it," he said sadly. "It makes me wanna puke."

"You _can't_ be serious!" Brick roared. "I paid $20 for that!"

"I just can't, I'm sorry!" Butch cried, helping Blossom clean up the mess.

"Taste aversion?" Boomer suggested. "From the other night?"

"Probably," Blossom said. She looked at Butch. She frowned. "I'm sorry, Butch."

"Well, I guess I won't be drinking anytime soon," he said, defeated. He stared miserably at his drink. Brick huffed and pushed the drink over to Boomer.

"Drink that," he commanded. "We don't waste booze here."

"I don't want it," Boomer said, pushing the drink back. Brick narrowed his eyes and scooted the drink to Boomer once again. Blossom grumbled.

"I'll drink it," Blossom hissed, pulling the drink towards her and slapping her straw into the glass. She took a long drink, and Brick smirked.

"'Atta girl," he teased. Blossom resisted the childish urge to flip him the finger. She was really disappointing herself with this sudden digression of maturity. She never usually wanted to stoop to such a low level, and the drinking and vulgar gestures were way below her standards. She pushed the half-drunken glass aside and leaned back in her seat. She decided not to make eye contact with Brick for the rest of the night, in hopes of controlling her fury.

"I wonder when Bubbles is on," Butch thought aloud.

"Never, I hope," Boomer spat, quickly taking a big gulp of his drink. Butch looked at him coyly.

"Oh, you know you're gonna melt when you see her," he said, folding his arms across his chest.

"Am not," Boomer said. "I don't even like her, would you guys stop ragging on me about it?"

"Liar," Butch laughed. "You kissed her. We all saw it, man…"

"OKAY!" Boomer shouted. "We kissed. I know that. But it was her! She did it! Not me! Okay? Now stop mentioning it! God!"

Butch, Brick, and Blossom just stared at him. He sniffed, then looked away from them and took another sip of his soda. Blossom had a suspicion that Boomer wasn't being entirely honest, but now was not the time to call him out. She was surprised his brothers didn't either. Butch even opened his mouth to say something, but decided against it. Perhaps now was not the time to push such a wedge issue.

The song banging on the speakers cross-faded with a new song, causing a flurry of movement on the stage. Blossom recognized the tune right away: Lady Gaga's "Poker Face." She had heard it enough times on the radio to know that beginning synthesized drumbeat anywhere. She frowned; she wasn't exactly fond of this particular song. She wasn't exactly fond of the artist, for that matter. Nonetheless, Blossom zoned it out of her head, just like she did with every other song that played so far.

"Holy shit!" Butch suddenly cried. He then grabbed Brick's front pocket, pulled out a handful of bills, and dashed off to the side stage. The others watched him, startled. Blossom turned around, wondering where he was off to, and then – she gasped.

It was Bubbles, but she looked like anything _but_ the sister Blossom knew. She was dressed in the same uniform as the other girls: a bright red corset that sucked her tiny frame into a perfect hourglass, frilly red underwear that did _not_ cover her bottom, trashy black fishnets, and tall, red heels. Her hair was big and teased out, her make-up just as wild as the others. She looked terribly frightened, and even worse, she was standing on the stage in front of everyone, frozen stiff.

"Oh my God…" Blossom held a hand over her mouth and leapt across the room to her sister. Brick couldn't help but crack a smile. He looked over at Boomer, who seemed determined not to see anything.

"We're not missing this," Brick laughed. He then grabbed Boomer's arm, hurled him out of his chair, and dragged him to the stage with the others. Boomer fought back, but Brick gripped his brother's arm tight, refusing to let go. He simply gave Boomer a dangerous look, his eyes like slits and his teeth beared. Boomer whimpered. He gave up, and dejectedly stood between Blossom and Brick. Butch stood at the front, a few feet away from the stage, watching Bubbles as if staring at a car that desperately needed a paintjob.

"_I wanna hold 'em like they do in Texas plays._

_ Fold 'em, let 'em hit me, raise it, baby, stay with me…"_

"Come on, Bubbles, dance!" Butch cheered. He nodded his head to the beat of the music, and he flashed a $10 bill. Bubbles gulped, gave him a look of pure vile, and started nodding her head with him. Butch began moving his body, too, gesturing Bubbles to do the same. He smirked.

"Get into it," he said. Bubbles sniffled, and she moved her body. She found the beat, and her hips swayed side to side. She glanced at Blossom and grimaced. Butch rolled his hand, gesturing for more. Bubbles swayed her body more, still visibly uncomfortable. Butch smiled, and then waved his finger in a circle. Bubbles did a fast turn, not missing a beat. Butch pointed up to his lips, a cheesy grin plastered on his face. Bubbles smiled weakly. Butch rolled his eyes and beckoned for more. Bubbles grinned, though it came off more as a very angry grimace.

"If you're gonna look pissed, look like you're gonna rape me or something," Butch said exasperatedly.

Bubbles did another turn, her hair whipping around her face. She gave Butch yet another dark look, but she quickly obeyed his remark and changed her expression. Her lips pouted out, slightly open, and she lowered her eyes into a seductive stare. Blossom shuddered. The look was remarkably sexy.

"That's more like it," Butch said. "Don't forget the smile."

Bubbles smiled, but amazingly, there was no sign of a sneer. The corners of her mouth perked up every so slightly into a sly, mischievous smirk. She made eye contact with Butch, and her eyes narrowed. "Better?" she mouthed. Butch smirked back and nodded, still on beat.

"_Oh, oh-whoa-oh, oh, oh, oh-whoaaa, oh..._

_I'll get him hot, show 'em what I got..."_

Butch slowly lowered his hand, and Bubbles followed, dropping to her knees in synch with his hand. Blossom wanted to look away, the situation itself just so wrong, but she was too fascinated. Bubbles was catching on fast. So fast, in fact, that a small crowd of customers started gathering nearby, watching her. Blossom glanced at Brick, who was watching Bubbles with such amusement, she would've thought he was watching a hilarious comedy. She then glanced at Boomer, who was completely uninterested, his eyes focused instead on his shoes. Blossom frowned. She nudged him gently, and he looked at her. Blossom smiled and glanced at the stage. Boomer shook his head and looked back at his shoes. Blossom rolled her eyes and nudged him again, harder. He glared at her.

"Just _look_," Blossom whispered. Boomer sighed, his eyes rolling up to the ceiling. Then, he looked at Bubbles. His eyes widened.

"_Can't read my, can't read my, _

_No, he can't read my poker face…"_

Bubbles popped back up, just in time with the chorus. She ran a hand through her hair, her hips shaking in full groove. She glanced at the other girls, observing their dance moves and making notes in her head. She looked back at Butch, who was beaming at her proudly. She then turned to Brick, who seemed thoroughly amused by the whole thing, and then at Blossom, who seemed more intrigued than anything. She nodded at Bubbles encouragingly. To her own astonishment, Bubbles didn't need the encouragement. She was actually enjoying herself. As dirty as this was, she was actually finding a certain comfort in rebelling against her better nature. It was like the time when her sisters called her the baby and told her she wasn't as good a fighter as they were. Then she showed them, taking down their advisory with her bare hands and proving she was not only as strong as her sisters, but stronger. She was powerful, just as much as them, and it felt wonderful. Right now she felt that familiar feeling, that uninhibited adrenaline rush of real power. It was raw, overwhelming… satisfying. Her sisters never called her a baby again, and that made the achievement much more satisfying. This dancing, fed by the hungry looks of the men below her and the invigorating taste of unprecedented power, felt even better.

She was _definitely_ not a baby anymore.

***

Lila peered out behind the curtain from the opposite stage. She found Bubbles right away: the only unfamiliar dancer on the side stage. Lila smirked. The "new girl" was definitely cute enough, but she was obviously very new to this. She swayed awkwardly, her moves were naughty at best, though she was at least moving on tempo. That was start. It didn't matter to the Queen, though. She would be taken care of shortly, along with the others. Lila felt the heavy knife attached to her garter on her right leg. She smiled.

Lila pulled out a small compact from between her cleavage. She flipped it open. This compact was not exactly like any other compact: it was actually a tiny handheld transceiver, or walkie-talkie. She pressed the "make-up pad", and the microphone beeper. A distorter male voice answered back through the hidden receiver.

"Let's start the show after the song, shall we?"

***

Bubbles whirled around and dropped, slowly pushing herself back up while looking over her shoulder with a playful smirk. The men behind her roared, and her smile grew. She stood up and turned around, rolling her chest forward and out. Butch saluted her and took a step back into the crowd. She didn't need his coaching anymore. She saluted back at him and turned her gaze towards the crowd.

Then… she saw Boomer. He stared up at her, rubbing his neck nervously, clearly unsure of what to make of this. Bubbles faltered for a second, momentarily embarrassed. She looked away and stared vacantly back at the crowd. She frowned. Why did he have to look like that? Why wasn't he like his brothers, totally amused by the sheer ridiculousness of everything? Why did he have to just stare up at her with those deep blue, puppy dog eyes, as if – what! – _disappointed_ in her display of debauchery? And for that matter, why was she bothered by it?

Bubbles then found herself looking at him again. Their eyes met. She smiled, but she realized it was weak again. She forced a bigger one, hoping Boomer would smile with her, laugh with her, laugh _at_ her if need be. He forced a smile, but it slipped back into a grimace. He shook his head. Bubbles gave him a questioning look, silently asking him what his problem was. Boomer glanced at the other men, their mouths practically watering with lust. They tossed $20 dollar bills, even some $50's, pouring money at her heels. Boomer eyed them, then the growing pile of bills at Bubbles feet, then Bubbles. He smiled once more, desperately masking his contempt. Bubbles still didn't understand for a moment. So what? The men were paying her to dance for them. She was making a fortune simply by looking fierce and slinking across the stage. She was doing it for a legitimate reason, anyway, so what the heck?

"_Can't read my, can't read my, _

_No, he can't read my poker face…_

_She's got me like nobody._

_Can't read my, can't read my, _

_No, he can't read my poker face…_

_She's got me like nobody."_

Then… she got it. And that was it.

Bubbles kicked, carelessly knocking dozens of bills onto the ground. Her expression slipped right back into sultry seductress, but this time, she didn't stare at her dance coach or the voracious, aroused men. She stared right at Boomer, not once taking her eyes off of him. Their eyes locked again. His face twisted painfully. She smiled, hoping with every fiber of her being that he would smile back. This was no longer about her, or the men, or the power. This was about _him_. This was _for_ him. She sank to her knees, gliding her fingers up her thighs, her hips, her stomach, and stopping at her chest, right above her heart. All of a sudden, Boomer's face softened. He gazed at her for a moment, and she smiled once again. Through the sweat and make-up, he could see her eyes pleading, her lips speaking without moving. She lifted her hands and stretched her arms high. She lowered them grandly and stopped, pointing directly at him. Bubbles whispered something inaudible. Boomer didn't have to hear it to know what she said.

He smiled.

The song finally ended, and quickly cross-faded with an unfamiliar techno mix. Bubbles stood up and bowed, her audience bursting into applause. He glanced back at Boomer, who simply gawked at her. Bubbles pointed to their table, and waved her hand, shooing him away. She held up a finger, indicating she'd join them in a moment. Boomer nodded. He turned around, and then drifted back to the table, lost in his thoughts. He joined the other three, who he didn't realize had abandoned him halfway through the song. Brick and Blossom sipped on their respective drinks silently, and Butch mindlessly fidgeted with the tablecloth. Boomer sat back in his seat and stared off into space. Butch glanced him surreptitiously, and grinned.

"Hey!"

Bubbles skipped up to their table, a wad of cash in her hand. Brick, Butch, and Blossom burst into applause, happily congratulating her on a job well done. Boomer looked up at her. They smiled at each other again. Blossom grabbed a nearby chair and placed between her and Boomer. Bubbles sat with them, scooting her chair close to Boomer.

"Very good, my dear student!" Butch yelled merrily. "Next lesson, I teach you the art of the lap dance."

"Oh, I think I'm good," Bubbles said, giving Butch a cheesy wink.

"Where'd you learn to do that?" Blossom asked.

"It's… really… not that hard," Bubbles replied thoughtfully. "I mean, all I had to do was follow Butch and the other girls, and it's really easy to pick up. I practiced a little backstage, too. I took dance in college, anyway, so it's not like I'm totally untrained."

"We told you you'd be fine," Brick said. "Boomer, what'd you think?"

He, Butch, and Blossom looked at Boomer expectantly. Boomer looked up at them, alarmed. He glanced at Bubbles, who simply beamed at him. He looked into his empty glass.

"Not too shabby," he said, smiling to himself.

"So, are you now considering a full-blown career in exotic dancing?" Brick asked, as Butch laughed and took a drink of water. Bubbles eyed Boomer.

"No, I think I'll stick to crime-fighting and saving animals, thanks," she answered with a giggle.

Just then, the music faded to a low volume, and the DJ spoke over his microphone.

"Ya'll know what time it is, don't you?" he said grandly, his voice echoing through the hall. The dancers stopped and hollered, many of the regular customers in the audience cheering along with them. Almost half the men jumped up from their seats and rushed to the main stage, reaching into their pockets and pulling out loads of cash.

"It's nine o'clock, cats and germs, and that means it's high-roller time. And ya'll know what _that_ means, riiiight?"

The crowd screamed louder, gentlemen banging on the table and whistling.

"That's right! The man with the most dough gets a night with the Queen of Hearts herself. I repeat, the man who flashes the most dough during the next song gets the rest of the night with the matriarch of all Wonderland, the executioner of hearts, the collector of love tax, THE Queen of Hearts!"

The DJ scratched the record a few times, just as the crowd exploded. Blossom and Bubbles covered their ears as the cheers reached an ear-splitting volume. Blossom, though, was already lost in the clever mechanics of her super-intelligent brain. The crowd died down to dull roar, and Blossom turned to Brick.

"That's it!" she said to him. "You be the high-roller, Brick! If you can get Lila alone, you can question her and we can ambush her if need be."

Brick's eyebrows flickered.

"You think I have _that_ much money?!" Brick asked, astonished. "I don't have nearly as much money as some of the rich bastards here. The entry fee and drinks alone set me back some…"

"Well, I've got a ton here," Bubbles said, fanning herself with her stack of bills. "It's about $1000…"

"You made $1000 in one song?!" Butch exclaimed.

"Hey, those guys really are frivolous," Bubbles commented.

"Someone's gonna drop like, half a mil, I know it," Brick said slowly.

"Dude," Butch looked at his brother. "Bluff. It's just gambling."

"Yeah?" Brick shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He pulled out his money and flipped through it. He sighed. "I only have, like, eight grand. Altogether we have over nine…"

"That's fine!" Blossom assured. She pulled Brick up to his feet. "Well, hurry up there!"

"Wait, wait, wait!" Brick pulled out of her grasp, straightening his sleeve out. "Why do _I_ have to do it?"

"Because you have the money?" Blossom answered irritably.

"Boomer," Brick turned to his brother. "You do it."

"Me?" Boomer sat up straight.

"Yes, you," Brick said, tossing the money in front of him.

"Why?" Boomer asked.

"Because you are less captivated by the wiles of women," Brick replied.

"What?" Boomer cried. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It _means_ that if you win, when she starts hitting on you, you won't cave in," Brick explained. "And now you _really_ won't cave, so go do as I say."

"H-how do you know?" Boomer stammered, his face flushing.

"Boomer, just go," Bubbles chirped up. Boomer turned sharply, looking at her alarmed. She smiled. Boomer made a noise, rolled his eyes, and stood up. He crunched the money into his hand and stormed off towards the stage. Brick sniggered.

"Smooth."

"Did he have to go?" Blossom asked, watching Boomer stand with his hands jammed into his pockets, glowering up at the stage.

"No," Brick said. "But he's better-looking than the rest of us and that might work in our favor."

"He's also not female," Butch added. Brick nodded in agreement.

Blossom looked back at the stage. The boys had a point: Boomer was definitely more attractive than his brothers, especially by typical "boy-next-door" standards. Then Blossom immediately felt weird, considering she was pretty much checking him out. And she was comparing him to his brothers, which just made it worse. She scolded herself. This night was just so wrong…

Boomer took a small step forward, a significant distance away from the stage. Butch turned to Brick.

"Um – we're gonna have to help him," he said. Brick rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, I know," he sighed. "Let's go."

He and Butch hopped out of their seats and started to the stage. Blossom and Bubbles stood up to follow, but Brick stopped and turned around.

"You're not coming," he said.

"Why not?" Bubbles asked.

"You're girls," Brick replied curtly. He turned back around and followed Butch ahead. Blossom looked at Bubbles.

"This night—" she started, falling back into her chair. "— it just won't end, will it?"

Bubbles sat down. She laughed, "It can't get any worse, can it?"

The music cross-faded once more, the volume slowly raising as a new, unrecognizable song began. The dancers onstage hurried to the sides, and the men pushed closer to the stage. The house lights lowered as a spotlight shined center stage. The DJ's voice echoed back onto the speakers.

"The moment you've been waiting for!" He announced. The crowd burst into another round of cheers. "Give it up for – The _Queen_!"

The music rose to a crescendo, and out from the curtains stepped Lila Delamer, the Queen of Hearts.

She. Was. _Gorgeous_. There's almost no other way to describe her. She was the epitome of the perfect woman: waist-length natural blonde hair, big honey-gold eyes, huge plump lips, and a generously curvaceous hour-glass figure. She was dressed much tamer compared to her subordinates, with her black and red corset, matching elbow-length gloves, black underpants, sheer ebony stockings, and scarlet pumps. Her make-up was tasteful, too, with deep red lipstick and dark, smoky eye-shadow. It was a compliment to her natural beauty how little she needed to out-do the entire house. What marked her status, though, was her gold tiara, adorned with a large heart-shaped ruby in the center.

Lila grinned, flashing her equally perfect teeth. She did a quick turn, and then pranced downstage toward her adoring fans. She twirled around the pole near the edge of the stage, and the music picked up to a catchy beat. She began her routine.

"Flash a hundred," Brick commanded. He and Butch had pushed Boomer the very edge of the stage, and Boomer found this position both uncomfortable and claustrophobic. Luckily, no matter how beautiful the Queen was, Boomer was completely unfazed. She just looked like a painted up slut to him. Brick seemed fairly indifferent, too, though Butch appeared to be completely dumbstruck. His mouth hung, and Boomer could tell he was literally trembling with excitement. Boomer seethed, disgusted. He pulled a hundred dollar bill out of the wad of cash and held it up.

Lila spun around, and immediately caught sight of the boys. She knew who they were at once, remembering the picture Colette had sent her a week ago. _"Watch out for them…"_ her cousin told her. Lila laughed. She didn't need to worry about these low-life chumps. Now right now. She continued her dance, playfully teasing the men holding up handfuls of big bills. Tonight she wasn't interested in one else; she had other business to attend to, and that business was standing right where she wanted them.

"What's that one her leg?" Bubbles whispered to Blossom as she watched the Queen playfully mock and tease the audience.

"That would be a knife, Bubbles," Blossom replied, her voice tight.

"Should we be worried?" Bubbles asked, already obviously concerned.

"Not yet," Blossom said. "Let's just wait and see…"

"Raise it," Brick ordered Boomer. Boomer was now fanning out over $5000, though he put a few bills behind some of them to make it look like there was more. Lila turned to him, glancing down at the money. She looked pleased. She knelt down and danced for him, and he forced a cheesy smile on his face. Next to Boomer, Brick nudged his brother to up the price, while Butch just stared hazily at the Queen. Boomer added the last few thousand to the fan and waved it. Lila grinned and nodded her head.

She stood back up and held her hands in the air, just as the song came to an end. A microphone on a cord cast down from the ceiling, and Lila plucked it off its line and switched it on. She spoke, her light, southern drawl as smoky as the haze in the room.

"Evening, boys…."

The audience shouted back their greetings, the men closest to the stage waving their money frantically. Lila ignored them and continued.

"I believe I found my victim," she announced. She pointed to Boomer, and the audience cried out once more, most of them groaning in disappointment or outright booing. Lila held out her hand, beckoning Boomer to join her. Brick elbowed him hard, and Boomer begrudgingly pushed himself onstage. Lila grabbed his hand, squeezing it tight. Boomer felt his face flush in the same exact shade as the Queen's heels. Lila flashed him a warm smile.

"Now, if ya'll don't mind, I believe it's time for us to be… _alone_?" she said, dragging out the last word. "We're doing things a bit different tonight, though… Boys, I think it's time for ya'll to vacate the premises."

The audience erupted into a buzz of bewilderment. Blossom and Bubbles leapt out of their seats, knowing something bad was afoot. The Queen gazed at the audience expectantly, but nobody moved. She sniffed.

"Need I repeat myself?" she asked, her voice lilting dangerously. "I said it's time for ya'll to get goin'. Now scram. We're closed."

The audience just gaped at each other, only a few customers reluctantly heading back to their seats to collect their things. Most of them just looked at Lila confused. They just didn't understand. Blossom's heart, though, began to race. She hovered in the air a few inches, preparing herself for battle.

"She knows who he is," Blossom choked. "She knows we're here."

"How?" Bubbles whispered. Blossom did not reply, but locked her eyes on the stage.

"Do I really need to give ya'll a reason to get?" Lila said exasperated. She huffed, stomping her foot.

Then, in one swift moment, she slid her dagger out of its sheath and rammed the blade right into Boomer's chest.

The bomb blew up. Bubbles screamed, and the rest of the audience exploded into a frenzy. The customers stampeded through the hall towards the exit, the bouncer casually holding the door open for them. Blossom's insides squirmed as she watched Lila extract the knife and Boomer sink to the ground. He dropped the money, and it rained from his hands onto the stage. The pain was beyond excruciating, though he could barely feel it through the paralyzing reactants in the Z. If it weren't for the sudden tightening of his lungs, stifling his breath, he wouldn't even feel it. He was more surprised by the syrupy warmth leaking through his shirt and down his chest. His hands shook, just as a drop of hot blood dribbled down his chin.

Brick and Butch were frozen to the spot. They couldn't believe their eyes, not even when Lila turned to them with a cruel smile. She grabbed Boomer by his hair and wrenched him back with surprising ease. She pressed her knife up to his throat. She glanced at Blossom and Bubbles at their table, then back at the boys.

"You super-powered Yanks wanna talk? Well, here I am!" she cooed. "But no funny business or pretty boy here gets cut some more."

The hall was now empty, save for the heroes, Lila, the bouncer, the DJ, and several burly customers eying Blossom and Bubbles. Blossom figured right away they were undercover associates, made more obvious by the shiny pistols glinting in their hands.

"Let him go!" Bubbles roared, leaping several feet into the air. Lila tittered, her laugh dripping with contempt.

"Bless your heart," she giggled. "I'm giving you a chance to talk and you're wasting precious time. Aren't you more worried about a certain little brat?"

That broke it for Butch. He inhaled sharply, then dove onto the stage, knocking Brick out of his stupor. Lila stood her ground, pressing the blade harder against Boomer's neck. A tiny droplet of blood rolled down to his shoulder. He shivered, but didn't move. He struggled more to breathe.

"Where's Bridie?" Butch demanded, his hands curling into tight fists.

"Where's the money you owe us?" Lila asked. "No money, no deal."

"We don't _have_ your damn money!" Brick spat, joining his brother on the stage. "And we're not gonna. So, give it up, bitch!"

"Ohh, you're not in the position to be so cute," Lila said. "I'm not like Gemma darling – I'm not so easily swayed by violence and destruction. I'm a businesswoman, honeys, I want my money."

"Let him go!" Bubbles yelled once more, tears streaming down her cheeks. "He's dying!"

"Not yet," Lila said. "You can have him after I make my escape. Maybe you can get him to the hospital, you know, 20 miles away."

"What do you want from us?" Blossom asked, floating into the air next to Bubbles. "We don't have the money; we… we can't afford it."

"Then we can't afford to have you alive," Lila answered. "It's that simple. I guess my boys will have to take care of you, then."

The bouncer, the DJ, and all the associates pointed their guns at the four of them. Blossom rolled her eyes – when will they _ever_ learn? To be fair, though, how was Lila able to stab Boomer so easily? That could only mean that she had to have some Z on her, and it was entirely possible the gunmen did, too. She wasn't sure how, but this could prove more dangerous than their previous encounter.

"Wait!" Bubbles yelled. Lila, as well as the others excluding Boomer, looked up at her.

"What?" she yelled back.

"Can we just leave?" Bubbles suggested, fingering the lace on her corset. She looked at Boomer and bit her lip. "No fighting. No more bloodshed. Just leave. You're not going to tell us where Bridie is anyway, so what's the point?"

Blossom stared at Bubbles, curious. They _had_ to push Lila into submission. They needed to know where Bridie was. Unless Bubbles had something else in mind, which, no offense, was unlikely, then Blossom felt she was losing sight of the mission at hand. Yes, Boomer needed help fast, but they still had to do something about the Queen.

"Why should I?" Lila asked. Blossom saw her grip on her knife falter.

"Please?" Bubbles begged, staring sorrowfully at the pool of blood on the stage.

Lila paused, considering the plea. She glanced at the boys, only a few yards in front of her, bodies in full fighting stance. She then glanced at her associates, specifically the bouncer, who aimed his 9mm Lugar right at the back of Blossom's head. She met eyes with him. He nodded, clicking back the hammer of his gun. Blossom's ear twitched, but her face remained composed. Lila's eyebrows softened.

"Okay," she said. She took a few steps back, dragging Boomer's limp body with her. She looked back at the bouncer. "On the count of three, you take your friend and we split. Get the hell out of my club and don't you ever come on back, ya hear?"

"Fine," Bubbles agreed.

"Alright," Lila said slowly. "One… two…"

_FWOOMP!_

"Aghhh!"

In a flash of blue, Bubbles slammed herself into the Queen, knocking both Boomer and the dagger to the stage. At the same time, all of the gunmen fired in a barrage of smoke and bullets. Blossom narrowly missed a shot, rocketing straight to Boomer and lifting him offstage. The others were sure to take care of the Queen and her minions, and someone needed to get him out of her fast. He was still breathing, but just barely.

Brick and Butch whirled around and quickly took care of all the associates. Butch single-handedly blasted half the gunners with a huge green lightning bolt. He knocked the DJ out with a single blow to the head, and easily wiped out a handful of baddies with a powerful spin kick. Brick went after the bouncer, effortlessly whipping him into the air pummeling him like a lightweight punching bag. Meanwhile, Bubbles had Lila in chokehold, her face twisted into a blind fury.

"Where – is – she?" Bubbles interrogated, her teeth clenched tight. Lila's mouth flapped wordlessly, her hands clawing at Bubbles' wrists, her eyes bulging. Bubbles lightened a bit to allow her to speak. Lila wheezed in some precious air.

"N-no!" she whispered. Bubbles rolled her eyes and smacked her across the face, breaking the Queen's perfect nose. Lila sobbed, her hands shooting up to her nose.

"Where is she?" Bubbles asked again.

"Vegas!" Lila cried. "Vegas, Vegas! She's there!"

Bubbles let her go and stood up. Lila rolled over, spitting out mouthfuls of blood. One hand massaged her neck as the other one tenderly touched her nose. She swore.

"You broke it! You broke my nose!"

"Good," Bubbles snapped. She turned to Brick and Butch, who had just finished battling the cronies. They stopped in midair, breathless. Bubbles looked back at Lila struggling to stand up, then at the trail of blood leading to the backstage door.

"We gotta go," she said. The boys nodded and rushed to the entrance, Brick grabbing their bags on his way over. Bubbles wasn't worried about Lila anymore, and took off backstage, leaving the Queen in a bloody, undignified mess. Bubbles ripped the door off the hinge. Blossom was pressing a rag up to Boomer's chest, sopping up as much blood as she could. Blossom looked up at Bubbles.

"Time to go," Bubbles said, her voice much higher than usual. Blossom nodded her head, and she and Bubbles together lifted Boomer and carried him back into the hall. Butch's face fell the minute he saw his brother, and Brick looked at them gravely. Blossom turned to Butch.

"Do us a favor and kick the power," she said. Butch nodded, not taking his eyes off of Boomer. Electricity sparked in his palms, sending off a low crackling buzz. He raised them above his head, smashed them together, and sent a bolt off into the neon lights, over-powering the current and shattering all the lights in one surge. With that, the five hurried out of the club. They zoomed out of the lobby, through the manhole, and back into the moonlit desert. It was much cooler, but none of them seemed to care. They got the information they needed, possibly too easily, but at a terrible price. If they didn't get Boomer help soon, there was no other way to say it: he was going to die.


	16. Chapter 16 :: Special Powers

**Chapter 16 – Special Powers**

The five flew a short distance away from the club, Brick and Butch leading the way, Blossom and Bubbles carefully hauling Boomer through the air. He was deathly pale, and aside from some slow staggering breaths, he wasn't moving. Bubbles glanced at Boomer. His eyes were starting to glaze over, his breathing slowing every second. She grabbed his hand and squeezed. He didn't even acknowledge her.

"Guys, stop!" Bubbles said, her throat closing up as she held back a deep sob. The boys stopped in midair, and Blossom and Bubbles slowly dropped to the earth. Bubbles gingerly lay Boomer on the ground, one hand still clutching his. He wheezed weakly. Blossom stepped away from them, and Brick and Butch landed on the ground next to her. Butch turned to his brother.

"Can you do it?" Butch asked quietly.

"I don't know…" Brick swallowed and looked away.

"Do what? We gotta get him to a hospital…" Blossom's voice drifted off. Honestly, she wasn't sure if there was enough time. They wasted too much time.

"Do it," Butch urged. "Try it."

"Don't have a choice, do I?" Brick smirked. Butch reached over and put a hand on Bubbles's shoulder. She jumped. He gently pulled her away, but her hand clung to Boomer's. She hung on, her arm stretching tight, until Butch had drifted too far away. Her fingers slipped, dropping Boomer's arm on the ground with a dull thud. Bubbles finally sobbed. She whirled around and buried her face into Butch's chest. He winced, momentarily disturbed by the affection, but he wrapped an arm around her and held her close. He stared at his brothers, his face hard with worry.

"What are you doing?" Blossom asked Brick.

Brick ignored her, kneeling down into the dirt next to Boomer. Boomer's head turned, and his glassy eyes rolled up to gaze at his brother. Brick's hand glided over Boomer's chest, hovering over the wound. He touched, and Boomer winced. Brick have Boomer a dirty look.

"You shit," he said softly. "You're letting go already?"

Boomer's lips twitched; a hint of a smile. Brick smirked. He grabbed the collar of Boomer's shirt with both hands and yanked, popping the buttons off in one tear. Blossom's hand shot up to her face. The wound was bruised black, and Boomer's entire chest was smeared with coppery dried blood. So much blood… too much… Brick glanced at Boomer once more. He sighed, and then placed a hand over the gash.

"This better work."

Then, Boomer convulsed. He gasped, his chest arching forward and his head snapping back painfully. Bubbles looked back, horrified, erupting into another great sob. Butch held her back, gripping her arms and keeping her close to him. He continued to watch his brothers intently. Brick's face twisted, his teeth clenching behind his thin lips. A sickening groan gurgled from Boomer's throat, and his eyes squeezed shut. Blossom opened her mouth to say something – anything – but she couldn't seem to form any words. Boomer was dying! What was Brick _doing_ to him? Boomer made another horrifying noise. Then… she saw it. The dried blood quickly disappeared and the bruises dissolved into Boomer's skin. Brick's eyes flickered with excitement. Blossom's face softened. She blinked, trying to process what she saw. It didn't seem possible.

Brick was healing Boomer.

Brick lifted his hand, and Boomer collapsed. He then burst into a coughing fit, and Blossom could see that his wound was now a pale pink scar near his heart. Blossom choked out a small laugh of surprise. Butch grinned. Bubbles's mouth dropped as Brick helped Boomer sit up, patting his back. She squealed.

"Boomer!"

Butch let her go and she dove onto Boomer, narrowly smacking Brick in the face. Boomer struggled to breathe again as Bubbles wrapped her arms around him and pushed him back onto the ground. She cried out, delighted, "You're alive! You're alive! You're gonna be okay! You'll be okay!"

Boomer finally stopped hacking, though still out of breath, and he glanced at Bubbles attached to his right side. He chuckled. He then looked down at his chest. His fingers lightly prodded the new scar.

"_Ow_," he rasped. He looked back up at Brick. He panted, "…Thanks…"

"I wasn't sure if it was gonna work," Brick said with a shrug. Blossom watched him, a thousand thoughts buzzing in her head. He seemed to be acting like this was nothing, but Blossom caught him let out a tiny sigh of relief. His eyes softened as he stared at his brother. Before today, she had seen both of his brothers show more love and affection than she ever thought possible. Butch, for one, was a surprisingly wonderful father, and on a good day, a perfectly suitable boyfriend for her sister. Boomer struggled to show any emotion other than brooding, but when he accomplished something significant, like successfully defeating a foe, or when he was around Bubbles, he lit up with a pleasant charm that truly made him enjoyable. Brick, though, always remained cold and distant, regardless of the circumstances… until now. Though he tried to look only mildly pleased, with his simply smirk and furrowed eyebrows, his usual icy stare had melted into a watery gaze. He saved Boomer's life. This subtle slip of sentiment made Blossom's tender heart skip a beat.

"Can I help you?"

Blossom didn't realize Brick had been staring back at her. His eyebrow rose, his expression concerned. Blossom broke into a silly grin and shook her head.

"No, just… uh… good job…" she said lamely.

Brick smiled. Blossom's heart skipped again. It wasn't a cool smirk or a sardonic sneer – it was a real, warm-hearted smile. Blossom suddenly remembered the same smile from almost a week ago, back in the Professor's lab. He looked more than just "pleasant"; he looked handsome. He _was_ handsome. And he was much more capable of human feelings than Blossom thought.

"So how're you feeling?" Butch asked Boomer, stepping over and holding out his hand. He helped his brother up, Bubbles barely detaching herself. Boomer rubbed his neck and sighed.

"Thirsty," he answered. "And tired."

"Hotel," Brick said, turning away from Blossom. "You need some rest, dude. I think we all do."

"I want food," Butch said suddenly, rubbing his stomach. "Too much action and crazy shit makes me hungry."

"You would," Brick said, rolling his eyes. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone, glancing at the time. He laughed. "Only eleven?! No way!"

"Seriously?" Blossom said. She glanced at her own cell phone. 11:13 PM. It really wasn't that late, was it?

"We're still chilling out for the night," Brick said. "And somewhere nice. I wanna shower and a decent bed to myself."

"Then let's go!" Blossom exclaimed, leaping up into the air. Butch and Brick followed, Bubbles and Boomer pausing a second so he could stretch his arms. They stepped into the air together, and Blossom noticed their hands laced together. She smirked. It was about damn time.

"Albuquerque," Brick said. "It's closest."

"Right…" Blossom agreed.

The five rocketed through the sky, five colorful streaks in the starry sky. It took almost no time to make the 300 mile trip, and Brick led them straight to the nicest place they could find. They landed right outside a huge mustard yellow and dark ochre hotel, and hurried inside into the lobby. Brick approached the front desk, and the little, Hispanic host almost jumped out of his seat. Blossom immediately thought how very rude it was, then she realized how absolutely ridiculous they all looked. Bubbles was still dressed like a dancer, and all of them were spotted with blood and sand. Brick took offense to the reaction, too, and his lip curled out. Blossom hurried to cover them.

"Sorry, we were in a play," she lied smoothly. "We're still in costume – cast party, you know?"

"Oh, really?" the host said slowly, not entirely buying it. "What play?"

"Rocky Horror," Butch answered. He winked at the host. "My Frankenfurter costume is a little raunchy, so I'm not in costume."

"Huh," the host said. "How can I help you then?"

"How about the presidential suite," Brick said. "The one with two rooms."

"Um, sure…" the host took his time checking them in, eying them suspiciously every now and then. Brick paid the deposit with his card, cashing over an extra coupe hundred. The host gave him the cash and reluctantly handed them the keys. Brick leered at him. He dropped an extra hundred dollar bill in front of the man.

"Just so you don't hate us too much," he said. The host suddenly smiled at them.

"Enjoy your stay," he said with a nod. The five thanked him and headed up to their room right away.

Brick sure knew how to pick them: the suite was lavishly furnished with a full wet bar, a huge 27-inch television, an plush sofa covered in throw pillows, and beautiful Apache Indian-themed decorations. The walls looked like tan-marble, and the fluffy beige carpet sprung beneath their feet. Bubbles immediately led Boomer to the couch, Butch headed straight to the bar, and Brick sauntered to the bedroom, dropping their bags near the door. He peered inside and beamed, catching sight of the enormous king-size bed.

"Perfect," Blossom said, grinning.

"Can I go to iHop?" Butch asked, clicking open a can of Coke from the mini-fridge. Brick reached into his pocket and tossed his wallet on the bar. Butch grinned and downed the soda in one gulp. He then reached back into the fridge, pulled out a water bottle, and tossed it to Boomer. Boomer nodded gratefully.

"Thanks," he said. He spun off the cap and leaned back, letting the cool, fresh liquid pour down his sort throat.

"Alright, who's coming with me?" Butch asked, looking happily at the others.

"Not hungry," Bubbles said. "Thanks, though."

"I'm good," Boomer said.

"I think the rest of us are okay," Brick told his brother.

"Ya'll suck," Butch spat, disappointed.

"Before you go," Blossom started, taking a seat at the bar. She looked at Bubbles. "What did Lila tell you?"

Bubbles's nose wrinkled. She didn't want to think about that slimy bitch ever again.

"Bridie's in Vegas," she answered. "She didn't say much else."

"Do you believe her?" Blossom asked. She wished she had been there to see the exchange herself. Bubbles was understandably in a hurry when she interrogated her…

"You missed it!" Butch cried out excitedly. "She had the whore in a chokehold, and was like 'Where is she?' And Lila was like 'No, no, I'm not telling you!' Except she was like, choking, you know. Then Bubbles fucking whacked her across the face and broke her nose! Aw, man, it was awesome…"

"Your point?" Blossom said, her eyebrow rising. She was somewhat jarred by his sudden good mood. Perhaps he was happy Boomer was okay, too.

"She broke her nose," Brick retorted. "The Queen won't be working again until she gets that fixed. I think it's safe to say she was telling the truth."

Blossom considered this. Then she thought aloud, "Then if she's telling the truth, and Bridie's in Vegas, then what does that mean?"

Butch answered for her, bursting into song.

"_Bright light city gonna set my soul, gonna set my soul on fire…_"

"I guess that's where we're headed next," Blossom said. "I guess we are going to the casino after all."

"Ha! We know where she is!" Butch cheered, hopping onto one of the barstools and happily spinning around. Ah, that was it. Blossom smiled, also pleased with the news. They finally figured out where Bridie was, and all they had to do now was save her.

"Does that mean Colette lied to us?" Bubbles asked suddenly.

"Yes," Brick replied. "I'm not surprised."

"I am," Blossom snapped. "I can't believe she lied to us! What, is Bridie not safe after all?"

"No," Butch stopped spinning, his happiness disappearing off his face.

"She never was safe," Brick reasoned. He leaned against the wall, looking away thoughtfully. "But I doubt she's hurt or anything. Remember this is about the money – it's all business. I believe Bridie's okay, but we need to get there soon. Tomorrow night. That's it. We can't waste anymore time."

"You're right," Blossom said. "Then let's just rest tonight, and tomorrow's the day."

"I'm not so hungry anymore," Butch said, tossing the wallet back at Brick. Brick made a face. He shook his head and flicked it back at Butch.

"No, go eat," he commanded. Then, his tone changed, brightening. "Don't worry about it. We'll get to her, bro"

Butch stared up at him a moment. Then he sighed, and drifted over to the window. He opened it, hopped out, and took off down the street.

Blossom stayed at the bar, her eyes focused ahead on the wall near Brick, lost in thought. Brick reached into his pocket and pulled his cigar box just as he turned to Bubbles and Boomer. He frowned.

"So what're you guys gonna do?" he asked casually. Bubbles looked up at him.

"I dunno, probably watch TV," she said. With a great yawn, Boomer stretched his arms out on and then rested them the back of the couch. Brick glanced at him, then at Bubbles, and chuckled.

"Mkay," he said. He turned around and headed towards the bedroom. And then he stopped, leaning backwards outside the door frame. "Oh, by the way – Bubbles, you still look like a hooker." He laughed and shut the door behind him.

Bubbles jumped up. She looked down at herself and gasped.

"Oh my God!" she cried. She turned to Blossom. "Do you have an extra change of clothes? I totally forgot my bag…"

Blossom blinked, then looked at her sister. She was barely paying attention. She got up and floated over to the pile of bags on the floor. Sure enough, Bubbles's wasn't there, but Blossom's was. She reached in her bag, pulled out some clothes, and then tossed them at her sister.

"Thank you!" Bubbles exclaimed. She looked at Boomer. "I gotta shower. I'll be right back." She then dashed into the bathroom and slammed the door behind her. Blossom and Boomer were the only ones left. They looked at each other, and Boomer turned away awkwardly. Blossom simply stared at him, smiling.

"I take it you guys are staying in here?" she asked. Boomer glanced at her. He smiled sheepishly.

"Well, uh… Brick's, um, got the bedroom…" Boomer mumbled, his hand massaging the back of his neck.

"Then I'll leave you to it," Blossom said, giving him a short nod and floating over to the bedroom door. She knocked on the door. Boomer sat up.

"Butch'll be back. He'll stay in here, too," Boomer said quickly.

"Yeah, but you have a while…"

Brick opened the door. He stuck his head out and looked down at Blossom. He grinned. He opened the door wider and ushered her in. Blossom floated in and headed straight for the window as Brick closed the door behind her. They turned to each other.

"That was fast," Brick commented, folding his arms across his chest and leaning against the door.

"What was fast?" Blossom asked, as she too folded her arms.

"I knew you were gonna want to talk to me alone," Brick replied. He started fiddling with the button on his shirt cuff.

"I did," Blossom admitted. "I wanted to know how you did that."

"Did what?"

"Saved him!" Blossom cried. Her voice quickened breathlessly. "You just laid a hand on him and patched him all up like that! It was amazing! None of _us_ can do that! How could you?"

"Same reason you have ice breath," Brick answered simply. He pushed himself off the door, slipping his hands behind his back. He clicked the lock, though Blossom didn't notice. He floated over to her, staring nonchalantly out the window. "I can heal. I can fix minor illnesses, too. It's my 'special power.'"

"That's… fantastic!" Blossom exclaimed. "There's so much you can do with it! You can help so many people! You could help wounded soldiers in the war, or – or you could heal sick patients in hospitals, as long it's nothing serious or something. Or you could—"

Then Brick reached over and grabbed her by the back of the neck. He pulled her close to him, and before she could react – he kissed her.

Blossom stopped breathing. It was like someone dropped a smoke bomb in her head: she couldn't see, or think, or feel anything. All she could feel was her heart thumping like a drum and his lips pressed against her own. Her arms sank and slowly glided up his chest. Then, against all her instincts, she pushed him away. She glimpsed up at him, eyes wide.

"W-w-what are you… doing?" she stammered, the words seemingly take forever to come out.

"Well, you wanted it, didn't you?" Brick said with a shrug. Blossom's eyes narrowed. She stared at him, confused.

"I… do I?..."

"You tell me," Brick held out his hand, gesturing for her to speak. She backed up, her legs knocking into the bed behind her. She sat.

"I… I don't know…" Blossom finally replied. It was true: was this what she wanted? All the thoughts about him, all the jealousy towards her sisters and their romances, all the personal moments… _did_ she like Brick? The answer was yes, but _how much_ she liked him was the issue. She never thought it would happen, but she honestly did like him. He was as much a cold-hearted bastard as he was loyal brother friend. He was conniving as he was considerate, and as vile as he was intelligent. Despite his glaring flaws, she admired his strengths. Still, he was who he was – her former enemy, and perpetually in opposition to her principles. She was crime-busting attorney, and he was a professional convict. They rarely spoke since the Him fiasco, and she had barely any knowledge of his past outside of Townsville. She was also in some serious inner turmoil as to precisely _who_ he was. Was he her "friend," or was he just in this for himself? She could just ask him, but how would he answer her? Did she want to know?

"Brick, I want you to tell me the truth," Blossom began slowly. "Are you a murderer?"

Brick snorted.

"Why is that so damn important to you?" he demanded. "You know what I do! You know my business! You know what I'm capable of! I lie, I cheat, I steal, and I'm a violent motherfucker... So, you tell me what you think: do you think I'm a murderer?"

Blossom wanted to say yes. She had every reason right in front of her to. But she didn't. She didn't believe it; she didn't _want_ to believe it.

"No," she said.

"No?"

"No, because if you didn't value a person's life, you wouldn't have saved Boomer, you wouldn't be trying to save Bridie, and you certainly wouldn't be trying to save me."

Brick's head tilted to the side. Blossom continued.

"You didn't have to tell me about this. You didn't have to tell me they called a hit on us. You had no reason to warn me or my family ahead of time. It didn't affect you what happened to me one way or the other. You wanted me to know because you didn't want me to die."

Brick smiled, one eyebrow cocked.

"No."

"No?" Blossom said. "I'm wrong?"

"No, I'm answering your question. No, I've never killed anyone, nor do I have the intention to ever."

Blossom couldn't help herself – she grinned, proud of both her logic and her judgment in men. But then, her smile faded. So wasn't a killer; this didn't write him off completely. He not a truly evil person, but he was still not inherently good. Her heart sank a bit. She may have liked him, but she still didn't know if she liked him enough to _be_ with him. She needed something else, something more. She needed something to seal the deal.

She shivered. She didn't notice that Brick had drifted over to her, and was now standing in front of her, waiting. She looked up.

"So, is this what you want?" he questioned.

"I… I still don't know, Brick."

"Am I supposed to help you figure it out?"

Their eyes met. Blossom's face flushed, and she quickly fought with herself on how to react. He could help her with a lot more than just this matter. So many of her personal issues could be relieved in one go: her loneliness, her feelings of self-worth, her insecurities. This wasn't a quick fix: it was a reasonable deciding factor to help her gain insight. Whether it turned out good or bad, at least she would know.

Blossom took a deep breath. She gripped the edge of the bed, slowly pushing herself back and kicking off her shoes. She gazed up at Brick, her pink eyes glittering in the warm, golden lamplight. He smiled, another real one. He slid his hands up his chest and started unbuttoning his shirt.

"Thought so."

***

"Sorry 'bout that," Bubbles said brightly, hovering out of the bathroom drying off her hair with a towel. Boomer had been lying down, the sleep starting to creep up on him. Bubbles sat at his feet and tossed her towel on the coffee table. They smiled at each other.

"How're you feeling?" she asked.

"I'm… falling asleep," he chuckled. Bubbles nodded.

"You just wanna sleep then?" she suggested. "We've had one heck of a day, you know."

"Nah, I didn't know," Boomer said dryly. Bubbles hopped up and switched off the lights. She twirled around and dropped back onto the couch. Boomer glanced at her.

"You want me to move?" he asked, sitting up. Bubbles shook her head. Boomer eyed her, and then lay back once more. Then, Bubbles reached forward, moving across the cushions to curl up next to him. He shuddered, her hair tickling the back of his arm. She placed her head against his cheek and rest one arm on his still exposed chest. He was still trembling.

"Cold?" she asked.

"…Yeah…" Boomer whispered. It was probably about 80 degrees in the living room, but neither of them cared to mention it.

There was a long peaceful silence, Bubbles' breath blowing lightly on his neck. Boomer finally stopped trembling, but he couldn't stop the annoying pounding in his chest. He spoke.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Hm?"

"When you were dancing, you said something onstage but I couldn't really hear it over the music. What exactly did you say?"

Bubbles smirked. He knew exactly what she said, she remembered the smile. She'd never forget it. She didn't mind repeating it, though. She sat up a little, turning her face and looking straight at him.

"Nothing, really. I just said I love you."

Then she kissed him, pecking him sweetly on the lips. Then she lay back down and nuzzled against his face. Boomer's face burned. He almost wanted to ask her again, but now was not the time to push it. From the looks of it, there would be plenty of time for that later. He closed his eyes and patiently waited for sleep to take him.

***

"Hey." Ace rattled the fence, startling Buttercup from her light sleep. She sniffed, and her eyes fluttered open. She glimpsed sleepily up at Ace. She quickly rubbed the sleep off of her eyes, and then noticed the moonlight shining on the floor. It was still night.

"What?" she grumbled, pushing herself off the ground.

Strike received the call from Colette about Lila just a few moments ago. The idiot had let it slip that the kid was in Vegas, and now Colette was in a bind. She had no choice but to start preparing for the 'heroes.' She also strictly ordered Strike not to tell Buttercup anything, especially the fact that her family was even closer to Bridie. This meant Ace wasn't supposed to tell her anything, either. He didn't really care.

"She's dead."

Buttercup stared at him. She took a step closer, but the cuff snapped her foot back. She gave it a nasty look, and then turned back to Ace.

"Who?"

"Your kid," Ace said. "Your kid is dead."

Her head spun, whirling in her already clouded brain. Everything went dark for a split second, as if someone flashed a sheer black cloth over her face. Buttercup's insides froze, but she couldn't believe it. He was lying to her. He had to be…

"…No," Buttercup choked.

"Yes," Ace said quietly. "Just got the news. She over-dosed on the Z."

"No."

"I'm sorry—"

"NO!"

Buttercup tripped backwards into the wall and sank to her knees. The black cloth veiled her eyes, the blackness overwhelming her. She bit her lip so hard the already flaky, dry skin cracked and bled. It didn't even hurt. She wanted to weep, to explode in a storm of tears, but she just couldn't. She was too empty, a walking vessel full of nothing. Why cry anyway? There weren't enough tears in the world to show her sorrow.

Meanwhile, Ace smiled to himself. He stared at the shadowy cinder-block wall where Buttercup sat, watching her chain float in midair. It wavered slightly as she moved, but it appeared to be hooked to a cuff that didn't exist. He could hear her quiet, tearless sobs echoing back to him, though from his point of view, she could not be seen. There was absolutely no sign of her, no moonlit skin, no additional shadows bouncing off her body, nothing. The cell might as well have been empty. Unfortunately, she was too upset to notice what happened:

Buttercup had literally sunk into the shadows. Ace's little plan worked.

***

"Colette! I hate you!" Jack screamed into the receiver of his cell phone. It was almost sunrise, and he parked himself outside the Denny's a few miles outside Las Vegas.

"_Well, hello to you, too_," Colette snapped on the other line.

"This brat is gonna be the death of me!" Jack seethed, turning his cold black eyes towards the little girl next to him. Bridie sat in the front seat, happily munching through an over-sized cheese omelet. She didn't seem to care about Jack's rage, considering all she had to do was scream to get him to do what she wanted. He _would_ try and stab her with a shot of Z, but during one particular tantrum two days ago, Bridie had crushed his entire stock in his glove compartment. In fact, she destroyed almost the whole interior of the car by now, ripping up the seats and denting the dashboard. Jack was ready to just shoot her and get it over with.

"What do you want?" Jack asked, heaving a great sigh. "I'm right outside the city."

"_Good_," Colette said. "_You need to get here as soon as possible. Goddamn Lila told them she was here, and now she better _be_ here or I'm fucked."_

"Lila told them?" Jack repeated. "What the hell's been going on?"

"_Well, they're not gonna pay, and now none of the girls took care of them, so we're gonna have to go with plan C,_" Colette explained. "_I'm not too worried, though. As long as they don't ruin my casino, I don't mind dealing with them myself…_"

"Yeah, but wasn't that the original plan?" Jack asked.

"_Yes, but if they played nice, there wouldn't be bloodshed,_" Colette replied darkly. She sighed, her voice crackling over the phone. She quickly recomposed herself. "_Anywho_,_ get here straight away. No more dawdling. See you soon._"

She hung up.

"My mommy and daddy are coming to find me, aren't they?" Bridie asked through a mouthful of food.

"They already did," Jack spat. He started the car and took off out of the parking lot.

"I told you they would," Bridie said simply. She took a sip from her orange juice.

"Oh, but none of you will be around long enough for it to matter," Jack said with a sneer.

"Yeah, okay," Bridie said.

"Look at you, acting all _fearless_ and shit," Jack chided.

"I'm not afraid of you," Bridie shrugged her shoulders and took another bit of her omelet.

"We'll see about that," Jack chuckled.

Bridie looked at him, her face holding an expression of complete indifference. Then, she flung her breakfast right into Jack's face. Jack swore and swerved off the road, the greasy omelet and citrus juice stinging his eyes.

"_YOU BITCH! OH, YOU LITTLE SHIT, I'M GONNA KILL YOU!!!" _

Bridie roared with delight as Jack pounded the steering wheel furiously. She almost didn't mind if her family found her. She was growing to really enjoy ruining this mean man's life.


	17. Chapter 17 :: Paybacks

**Chapter 17 – Paybacks**

Brick pretty much knew what was going to happen: Blossom was going to kill him.

He stood against the windowpane, pants and undershirt already back on. He chewed on his unlit cigar, silently watching her lay there, fast asleep. Blossom looked so peaceful, with her long copper hair draped around her face and the comforter modestly covering her bare body. It was refreshing to see her _not_ in a perpetual state of anxiety. She was always so uptight and patronizing, and it never failed to drive Brick nuts.

And yet, that was part of her appeal. He hated himself for it, but no one could get under his skin as easily as Blossom could. No one could match his sharp wit or challenge his logic like her, and as annoying as it was, Brick found that deep down, he _liked_ it. All his past flames, including Princess, were nothing more than dim-witted, unctuous lap dogs, constantly sucking up to him and begging for attention. Who would've thought women would be so into wealthy-looking criminals? Nonetheless, even if they weren't exactly friends, Brick really enjoyed the mental stimulation she presented.

But it wasn't just that. Brick never mentioned it, but he had a very difficult time with that fickle thing they called "feelings." It was something that made him a powerful criminal, yet a capricious human being. He tried very hard not to feel too much for anyone or anything, because to do so would to be inflexible. In the harsh world he chose to live in, stubbornness could get you killed. Not that anyone he dealt with could kill him, but it could cause some trouble. That was what feelings were: trouble. So when anything truly struck his fancy, it was bound to be something both worthy and troublesome. Well… that was exactly what Blossom was. Considering who she was – an intelligent, lawful, honest, and admittedly stunning woman – she would be both a prize and a hindrance in his life. He couldn't be the tough gangster he wanted to be with her around. She had had enough worries with his alleged murderous background, just wait until she found out about all the illegal activity he _did_ do. Point blank, she was _too good_ for him.

All in all, even if Blossom did figure out her feelings, he really wasn't sure about his own. Honestly, he didn't really want to give up his life to be with her, especially when he didn't even think they would work in the end. What was the basis of their relationship anyway? Almost a lifetime of enmity, a little over a month of awkward partnership, and an hour of sex? Even Brick didn't think that sounded okay. He didn't want to end up like Butch and Buttercup, two separate lives fighting to stay together and do what they wanted at the same time. That was no good. Blossom didn't deserve it anyway, and frankly, Brick didn't deserve _her_. No, he and Blossom could never really happen.

Brick sighed. He had thought about it long enough; may as well get it over with. He pulled out a small book of matches, flipping the cover back and ripping a match out. He struck it, lit his cigar, and then took a big puff. Blossom stirred, the familiar smell awakening her senses. She inhaled, and her eyes opened.

"Morning," Brick said with a smirk.

Blossom sat up, one arm holding the blanket over her chest. She flipped her hair out of her face and smiled.

"Morning."

"How're you feeling?" Brick asked quietly.

Blossom looked away for a moment, thoughtful. Then she grinned.

"Like a conformist," she replied.

Brick laughed, the smoke gusting out of his mouth. Blossom chuckled with him and shifted in her spot. She winced, her legs aching dully beneath her skin. She huffed.

"And sore," she added, running a hand over her thigh.

"Yeah, you better be," Brick said sternly, popping the cigar back in his mouth. Blossom eyed him.

"But seriously," she started, lacing her fingers together and leaning forward. "I think… well… I don't know…"

"Still?"

"I don't know how to _say_ it," Blossom continued. "I guess, all I can say is, uh... hmm… thanks?"

"My pleasure," Brick retorted, stepping over to her. He took a seat at the foot of the bed and rested his head on his free hand.

"Don't be so cocky," Blossom scolded. "It's unbecoming."

"Don't say 'cocky,'" Brick snapped, though still smirking. Blossom rolled her eyes.

"Well, since that's all cleared up," Brick flicked some ash onto the carpet. "All I can ask is 'now what?'"

"You tell me," Blossom said with a shrug.

"Well, what do _you_ want?" Brick asked.

Blossom didn't reply. She sat up and folded her arms across her chest. Her eyes darted around the room, looking everywhere but at him. Brick waited for her to speak, taking another puff off his cigar and staring at her. A small pang of anxiety flared in his lower stomach, his usual impatience gnawing at his insides. He knew what she was going to say, so he quickly prepared several excuses in his head. Then Blossom opened her mouth to speak.

"Why do you have to live so far away?" she said thoughtfully, not really asking. She finally looked at him, smiling sadly. "How is anything supposed to happen if you're not going to be around? I mean, how am I supposed to, I don't know, get to know you if you're gone all the time?"

Brick's anxiety disappeared. His mouth dropped, and he resisted the urge to jump up and kiss her again.

"What – what are you saying?" he stammered.

"Brick, last night was wonderful, but I'm not stupid," Blossom said, her smile fading. "I mean, I don't know much about this whole relationship thing, but I certainly don't think it's all about one good night. And when are you gonna be around to make it more than that? I'm in Townsville – I've got other priorities, and so do you, right? I don't know, I guess I'm just… not ready. Heh, I really know now how I feel, but… I'm not ready. _We're_ not ready. "

Brick grinned. He took the last puff on his stumpy cigar, and then flicked it into the ashtray on the side table. Blossom looked at him, bemused.

"Are _you_ okay with this?" she asked.

"You have no idea," Brick said, his voice bubbling with excitement.

"Am I psychic or what?" Blossom laughed, rolling her eyes.

"No." Brick suddenly dove onto her, pressing his lips hard against hers. She jumped back, startled, then relaxed and let him kiss her. He broke away, panting.

"You're fucking brilliant."

He went in again, trailing hungry kisses down her cheek, her neck, her collarbone. Blossom laughed, and then gently pushed him away. She tilted his head up to face her, his eyes sparkling wildly.

"So, I guess we're just gonna enjoy it now while we can?" she asked simply. Brick huffed, shaking her hand away.

"Duh. And we're wasting time – it's only like, eight…"

***

Buttercup stared at the fence ahead of her. She barely moved all night, but she never slept, the idea simply too foreign to even comprehend. One cannot sleep through pain, and her pain was like acid on her trampled nerves. She couldn't feel anything else, not the dusty floor, not the dull pangs of hunger, not even the tears that finally streamed down her face hours ago. Just the pain. But she didn't care. She didn't care about anything. What did it matter? Her daughter was dead, her family was nowhere to be seen, and she was still locked in a cage. There was nothing she could do but sit there and implode.

Buttercup's ear twitched, hearing the door down the hall creak open. It shut, and she heard the soft reverb of footsteps heading towards her. She didn't bother to look, her eyes still focused blankly ahead.

"Hey you," Ace's oily voice cooed at her. Buttercup's nostrils flared. Ace unlocked the gate and stepped inside. He watched her, but she still made no attempts at acknowledging him. He noticed the sunlight beaming on the floor in front of her. Her face was barely visible in the shadowy corner.

"Hey," Ace called again. "Do you hear me?"

Ace took one careful step towards her. Then, her chain rattled violently, her hand knocking it as she jumped away from him. Her muscles ached after hours of disuse, but she still didn't care. Buttercup didn't want Ace's grimy hands anywhere near her.

"I just wanted to talk to you," Ace said softly, slipping his hands into his pockets. Finally, Buttercup tore her eyes off the fence and stared at him. He shivered as an icy chill crept down his spine. He had never seen her so vicious, her eyes glittering with a wild fury, even though she just sat there motionless.

"Good," Ace smiled, despite the cold fear in his chest. "Now that I have your attention, tell me – you really don't know where your sisters went?"

Buttercup didn't answer. Ace wished she would stop staring at him as the fear trickled through the rest of his body. He didn't really expect her to answer, but it was a question that still needed to be asked. Then her lips parted. She spoke, her voice an even yet dark tone.

"What more do you want from me?"

"Well, I—"

"You know everything," she continued. "You've _done_ everything. You have no use for me, so why don't you just fucking kill me?"

Ace lowered his sunglasses, his beady eyes gleaming down at her. He smirked.

"I'm right here," Buttercup said. She lifted her arms and a bitter smile slipped on her face. "What are you waiting for?"

"Funny, I was gonna ask the same thing," Ace chuckled, taking his sunglasses off altogether and stuffing them in his vest pocket. "Here I am within your reach and yet you don't even get up to kill me. You just sit there, wallowing in your own pity."

"Excuse me?" Buttercup's voice cracked, the anger beginning to gurgle in her throat.

"You heard me," Ace said. His folded his arms across his chest, his smirk growing into a full-fledged sneer. "You just sit there, crushed under your silly problems, crying like a _little girl_. Aww, whatsa matter? Did someone take your '_wowwipop_?'"

"You bastard…" Buttercup mumbled, a fresh batch of tears burning her eyes.

Ace snickered. "Or maybe someone told you you couldn't play outside. That's it, right? No, no, wait! You wanted to go get some ice cream and daddy said you couldn't, so now you're just being a brat, huh?"

"Stop it…" Her body trembled, the rage bubbling through her body like the gas in a champagne bottle. Buttercup tried to swallow the painful lump, but it wouldn't budge. "No! No, I got it! You were a bad girl and mommy took away your favorite toy, now you're just gonna hide in the corner, right?" Ace roared with laughter, and Buttercup's fists clenched as she tried to stop herself from uncorking. Visions of brutal, unrestrained violence flashed before her. She wanted him to stop so badly. She couldn't fight back. The cruel bastard was just kicking her while she was down, beating her already strangled corpse. He licked his lips and leaned forward, revving up for the biggest blow.

"Aww… 'mommy.' Too bad, huh? Poor, poor Buttercup… Too bad you can't be one anymore, can you? No more 'mommy'…"

_Pop!_

Her snarl sliced through the air, and in one smoky flash, Buttercup bounded from the corner after Ace. She slammed him to the ground, fists pummeling into his olive flesh. Ace gasped to breathe, each blow knocking the air out of his blackened lungs, yet he couldn't help but grin. Her eyes blazed with electric green light, and her entire body wavered in a cloud of darkness. He waited for her to notice, hoping her blind rage would surpass before she murdered him.

Then, as the gods above would have it, Buttercup stopped. She leapt off of Ace, and stared at her hands. They were still there, though her arms seemed cloaked by invisible sleeves. She looked at the rest of her body and it too had disappeared, aside from a few spots of visible skin and cloth. The blaze faded from her eyes, and her body suddenly came back into focus. She blinked, her breath coming out in short pants.

"What… what's…"

"From the looks of it," Ace whispered, gingerly sitting up. "You have shadow powers."

"What?" Buttercup gasped. She looked up at Ace in utter disbelief. "Shadow powers?"

"You can slip into the shadows," Ace said, and then he coughed up a mouthful of blood.

"H-how?" Buttercup stammered. "I don't… what the…?"

"Maybe all that angst reawakened some deep, inner darkness of your soul?" Ace joked, though he did have a legitimate point. Buttercup's thoughts whizzed around in her head, and she desperately tried to catch the right one to explain this. What was happening? What were these "shadow powers?" What was going on? What was—

Then she remembered. It was just a phase when she was a kid, a moment of childishness when she and her sisters lost sight of who they were. They decided they weren't cool enough superheroes, and they needed something more to make them, well, _better_. Bubbles was some lame bunny thing, and Blossom was nothing more than a Wonder Woman knock-off. Buttercup, though, chose to embrace the powers of darkness, and slip into a shadowy alter-ego known as "Mange." When a monster, believe it or not, knocked some sense into the girls, Buttercup had given up the act, never to think about it again. But now… was this it? Maybe not exactly, but maybe something close _to _it. She took a step back into the corner, and closed her eyes. She took a breath, trying to steady all the emotion inside. She reenacted her previous feelings, forcing herself back into the agonizing void. The fear and heartbreak, so uncharacteristic of her usual self, suddenly returned, flooding the emptiness with something, anything, that would stop the pain. Buttercup then opened her eyes and looked down at herself. She was gone. Her body was gone, sunken into the shadows around her, clothes and all. She took a step forward into the patch of sunlight, and her heart leapt when the blackness followed, a solid shadow even in the light. Then, she grinned, and her body flickered back into the light. She grabbed at her stomach, and was momentarily shocked that it still existed. Buttercup laughed. This was it. This was her power. She had no idea how she got it or how it suddenly came to be, but clearly, this was her special power. It had to be! And she wasn't pregnant, damn it!

"Cool, huh?"

Buttercup's head snapped up. She had forgotten Ace was there, and she didn't realize he had been staring thoughtfully up at her the entire time. Her eyes suddenly narrowed.

"You… you…"

"Well, I was just curious," Ace said simply. Despite herself, Buttercup leaned over and helped him up. He winced, a sharp pain burning in his chest. He must have broken a rib or two, but amazingly, he had suffered worse. Buttercup helped him against the wall, and then she stepped away from him. She looked at him, searching for a reason for his actions.

"You… you helped me?" Buttercup stammered. She glanced down at her feet, and then she noticed she had not only broken out of her cuff, but was now floating an inch or two above the ground. She had _all_ her powers back.

"No, I just happened to forget the Z," he said simply, wincing again as he touched his lower chest. The word struck Buttercup hard, and the heaviness of the memory dropped her to the ground.

"Bridie…" she choked, another wave of emotion overwhelming her.

"That's why I asked about your sisters," Ace wheezed. "Buttercup – she's still alive. She's fine. And your sisters are about to save her."

"WHAT?" The wave of emotion quickly changed tides. Buttercup resisted every fighting urge to sock him again, but she needed to hear more.

"You – you lied to me!?"

"I did," Ace said. "But I really wanted to see more of that cool shadow shit."

"But you _lied_ to me!" Buttercup roared. "And of all the fucking things to say, you tell me Bridie was killed?! You sick fuck! Shit, how am I supposed to believe that she actually _isn't_ alive? How can I trust you?"

"Because you're free to go get her," Ace said with a grin. Buttercup's mouth dropped, suddenly lost for words. Neither spoke for a moment, and Buttercup glanced around the cell. She looked back at him, and finally found the words.

"No trap?" she asked slowly.

"Nope."

"No more lies?"

"None."

"You sure?"

"Positive."

"Whose side are you on, Ace?" Buttercup demanded, taking another step back.

"I told you," Ace said. "Mine. And I always root for the winning team."

This much was true. Ace never really did care for being mixed up in this whole thing. Organized crime wasn't exactly his thing – he was just an anarchist. Besides, Evie was really getting on his nerves.

"…You really are a manipulative jackass," Buttercup laughed, recalling their previous conversation. "And we're the winning team?"

Ace didn't say it, but he thought it: of _course_ they're the winning team. The Powerpuff Girls were a challenge, not a group to be destroyed. Any real villain of Townsville could tell you that.

"Yep." Ace nodded. "And besides – I just have a soft spot for cute black-haired girls, I guess."

"Creep," Buttercup snapped, though she smiled. She remembered the last time she really dealt with Ace. It wasn't exactly the most wholesome or innocent of encounters, especially on her end, but one thing was clear: Ace had been very fond of Buttercup. For whatever reason, ten years after she got over her little crush, he liked her. She thought it would've stopped when she left him naked and handcuffed to a bed, but maybe it didn't. He was still an asshole, obvious now by his betrayal to the Flush, though Buttercup couldn't help but feel grateful. Perhaps beneath his greasy skin there _was_ some type of heart. She was suddenly annoyed, thinking how the bad guys really needed to stop having good sides. It wasn't good for her sanity.

"Besides," Ace started. "No one likes the Queens anyway, no matter how well they pay. Go get your daughter, kid."

Buttercup looked out the tiny window. She never had a chance to see it since she was captured, and as some crisp, autumn leaves swept past the window, it almost called to her. In her confinement, she almost forgot about the idea of freedom. Now that she was powerful again, and Ace seemed to be completely unarmed, the idea was more empowering than she could ever imagine. She grinned, the happy warmth firing through her veins.

"Where is she?" Buttercup asked quickly.

"Vegas, at the King's Casino," Ace replied, massaging his bruised chest. "It'll probably be one of the biggest ones, too, I doubt you can miss it."

"No," Buttercup chuckled. "Where's Strike?"

Ace laughed. He did have an idea that she would ask about her.

"Out of here, the first door when you walk out," he answered. He pointed idly down the hall. Buttercup followed his hand and nodded. Then she looked back him. She sneered.

"You do know that I can't let you off that easily, though, right?" she said. "I'm not sure that beating was enough…"

Ace sighed. "Yeah… I know. But first—" He reached into his back pocket and pulled something out. It clattered lightly, shining dully in the light. Buttercup's insides squirmed with guilt as she recognized them right away: her handcuffs, the very ones she had locked him up with four years ago. He tossed them at her, and she caught them. The chain tickled her fingers.

"Wow… thanks…"

"Yeah, the cops gave it to me as a present, and I didn't want them, so I figured I'd give them back," Ace sniggered.

"Hm…" Buttercup promptly slapped the cuffs onto her wrists. She admired them with a soft smile. Then she pushed her fist into her other hand, cracking her knuckles. She turned to Ace, still wearing the same smile. She spoke, "Thanks again."

"Eh, no biggie. No one likes the Queens anyway…"

"Who would?" Buttercup spat.

Then, she punched Ace right in the jaw, one hard blow to knock him out cold. She then knelt down and felt around in his pockets, finally pulling out his cell phone. She flipped it open and immediately dialed 9-1-1. It started ringing, and she gently placed it on his chest. Someone would answer it soon enough, and when he didn't speak, they would at least track down the number and find his location. Then they would come and get him some help.

It was the least she could do.

***

Strike had passed out, fully dressed, on the loveseat, one hand resting over her cell phone on her stomach, and the other drooped onto the concrete floor. There were no windows in the office, so the only light source was the dim lamp on the desk a few feet away. It wasn't hard for Buttercup to silently slip beneath the crack in the floor and blend in against the shaded wall. She was actually more surprised she could do that: compress herself into any shape or form within her shadow being. She chuckled to herself and slithered around the room across the walls, a camouflaged lizard in the darkness.

Buttercup passed the shelving unit and she noticed the huge black case on the middle shelf. She stopped, one invisible hand fingering the locks and flicking them open. She opened the case. Inside was Strike's gun, her prized Heckler & Koch PSG-1 semi-automatic sniper rifle she had received from David LaBlageuer before he died. Not the Buttercup knew this, of course, but she did know that this baby was obviously well-loved. It had been meticulously polished, from the muzzle all the way down the barrel and right to the stock. Even the scope didn't have one single speck of dust on the crosshair. Buttercup smiled to herself.

Strike snored, a long, pig-like snort slicing through the silence. Buttercup paused a moment, and then lifted the gun from its case. She held it in mid-air for almost a minute, making sure it didn't blend in with her. Then, she drifted over to Strike, floating inches above the girl's body. Buttercup aimed the gun right into Strike's face.

"Ahem…"

Strike's eyes snapped open and focused onto the gun pointed directly at her nose. Before she could react, Buttercup lifted her off the couch and slammed her against the wall. She gasped, clutching the barrel of the gun with both hands, her feet kicking against the floor. She fought to push the gun away, but Buttercup held it sideways in front of her. Strike was stunned. The only things she could see were two glowing green eyes and her own gun pressed against her neck. She gulped. Buttercup then erupted into a fit of deep, whispery giggles.

"Oh, the might fall hard, don't they?" she hissed.

In the blink of an eye, Buttercup reappeared, her shadowy form melting off her body. Strike's cold gray eyes flashed with anger.

"You…" she choked. "H-how…"

Buttercup wasn't going to waste any more time. She shoved the gun under Strike's arms and bent it, as easily as one bending a simple dinner spoon. She jammed the butt and muzzle into the brick wall and took a step back. Strike snarled, grabbing at the gun and desperately trying to force it off of her. Buttercup stopped to admire her handiwork. She had essentially locked Strike against the wall with her own gun.

"You – fucking—"

"Not so fun, is it?" Buttercup snapped.

"_I'M GONNA KILL YOU!_" Strike screamed, the froth visibly dripping from her lips. Buttercup rolled her eyes.

"You know, I have every right to wring your neck right here, but you know what? I won't," Buttercup said, folding her arms across her chest. "Instead, I'm gonna let you tell your boss what happened. You're gonna tell her how you messed up your little hostage deal, and how I'm coming to Vegas after her. And then I'm gonna wring your neck like you deserve."

"No!" Strike spat. "I won't!"

Buttercup grabbed the cell phone lying on the floor. She flipped it open, sifted through the names in the contact list, and pressed call. She pressed the button on the side, enabling the speaker phone. She held the phone out in front of Strike.

"No! I'm not doing it! I'm gonna fucking kill you!"

"It's ringing…"

***

Colette LaBlageuer, Queen of Spades, sat in her gray office, her perfectly manicured nails clicking on her desk. Her cup of coffee sat untouched before her, already lukewarm and chalky. She didn't need the additional energy; she was already beyond infuriated, though you'd never tell. If there was anything she had learned from her otherwise weak father was this: never let anyone see your emotions. If you're angry, or pleased, or upset, never show another living soul. You couldn't afford to let your enemies know what you're feeling. Colette chose to always live by this principle.

She turned to the window, and frowned. Las Vegas looked so bland in the daytime, especially in the dry, morning sun. Then again, she was not exactly in the best of moods to enjoy much of anything. It could've been prettier, but she honestly couldn't give two shits at the moment.

There was a knock at the door. Colette whipped around in her chair to face the door. She spoke.

"Come in."

"_GET HER AWAY FROM ME! GET HER AWAY! I HATE THIS! I HATE HER!"_

Jack stumbled into the office, his face dripping with melted cheese and grease, dragging Bridie behind him. She floated in the air, simply in tears with laughter. Jack kicked the door shut behind him, cursing up a storm. Colette stood up, staring daggers at her associate.

"Jack…"

"Fuck this little shit!" Jack screeched. "Queen, she's been the goddamn bane of my very existence since she woke up!"

"Jack…"

"I'm done! That's it! I'm done! Consider this my resignation! My retirement!"

"JACK!"

Jack closed his mouth, though his body heaved with each fuming breath. Bridie continued tittering to herself a few feet away. Colette glanced at her, and then turned back to Jack.

"Jack, you really couldn't handle a little girl?" she asked, frowning. She sat back down in her chair, lacing her fingers together.

"You don't know what this little crap's capable of…" Jack said, pointing at Bridie accusingly.

"Is that… Denny's?" Colette sniffed the air. Jack bared his teeth, and Bridie burst into another fit of laughter.

"I'm telling you, you have no idea—"

Just then, Colette's desk phone rang. Colette held up a hand in front of Jack and pressed the answer button. A monstrous growl sounded through the speaker.

_"Tell her, Strike-y,_" said another raspy voice far off in the phone.

_ "Colette! I'm sorry!"_ Strike cried, her voice shrill.

_ "Go on…"_ the other voice urged.

_ "She's escaped! I-I-I fucked up, Colie! I'm sorry!"_

Colette's eyes narrowed. Jack stared at the phone, mouth agape, as Bridie suddenly stopped giggling. Strike continued.

"_I'm so sorry, Colie… I don't know what happened…_" Colette swallowed hard, the blubbering on the other line just too strange to hear. Strike never shed a tear, not to Colette's knowledge.

"_That's enough,_" said the other voice. There was some shuffling, Strike's whimpering fading away. The other voice came back, loud and clear. "_I'm coming to Vegas, bitch. And if you hurt my daughter I _will_ kill you."_

There was so more shuffling in the receiver. Then, they heard Strike's swear before being cut off by a very nasty thump. The line went dead.

"Mommy!" Bridie cried.

Jack turned to Colette, his mouth still hanging limp. Colette looked down at her knees, quickly composing herself. Then she looked back up at Jack. She frowned.

"Take Bridie downstairs to the basement," she commanded.

"Then what?" Jack asked.

"What else?" Colette said simply. "We wait."


	18. Chapter 18 :: Bright Light City

**Chapter 18 – Bright Light City**

Brick and Blossom decided that, well, the others didn't need to know about what was going on between them, especially last night's events. So they made sure their siblings were still asleep when they left the bedroom, fully dressed and ready to go. Brick peeked into the living room and saw Bubbles and Boomer still fast asleep on the couch with Butch zonked out on the floor. He beckoned Blossom out the door. She floated into the living room, raking through the tangles in her hair. She found her bag near the bathroom, and she quickly pulled out her brush and hurried to fix her hair. She turned around and gazed at her sister, curled up in Boomer's arms. She smiled.

"It's about time, don't you think?" she said quietly. Brick smirked.

"Yes, it's so precious… WAKE UP! TIME TO GO!" he called. Butch awakened with a great snore as Bubbles and Boomer shifted sleepily. Blossom smacked Brick on the arm, but he just laughed. Boomer suddenly jumped up, pushing Bubbles away from him and casually rubbing his neck. Bubbles looked at him, hurt.

"Boomer, don't be mean," Blossom chided playfully, giving him a knowing look. He smiled sheepishly, and then turned to Bubbles. He mouthed to her "Sorry." She rolled her eyes.

"Hey, Boomer, you look good for someone who just got stabbed last night," Brick said, sidling beside the couch and sitting on the armrest.

"Well…" Boomer glanced at Bubbles again and rubbed the scar on his chest. "I'm… alive, right? I think that's reason enough to look good, I guess?"

"Yeah, I guess," Brick huffed, eying Bubbles. She wrinkled her nose at him.

"Where were you guys?" Butch asked, sitting up with a yawn.

"Blossom here bogarted the bed," Brick lied seamlessly. "I ended up on the floor, too."

"Really…" Butch said dryly. Not that he actually expected anything, but he always did like to kid.

"Oh my God!" Blossom gasped. She looked at the digital clock on the wall near the bar. "It's almost noon?"

"Oops," Brick snickered. Blossom didn't notice, and instead grabbed all their bags and tossed each of them to their respective owners.

"We gotta go. Now," Blossom said.

"We should probably wait until night, actually," Brick said, checking his cell phone. "The casino's not even open yet. And we're only, like, two minutes away."

"I'm hungry," Butch added, rubbing his stomach.

"Me, too," Bubbles and Boomer said simultaneously.

Blossom glared at them, one at a time. Then she sighed, dropping her bag to the floor.

So, they waited. They ate, ordering up some tasty room service for lunch and dinner. Brick and Butch bought a deck of cards from the corner store and spent the rest of their time playing poker. Bubbles and Boomer sat on the couch once again with their eyes glued to television. Blossom decided to hang around the bar, lost in her own thoughts. She wished she had her journal, wherever it was. For a while, she contemplated where she may have misplaced it, but she didn't think about it long. Instead, she stared at Bubbles happily nestled against Boomer. Blossom chuckled to herself, a strange thought popping into her head. She never would've imagined in a million years that she and her sisters would have the relationship with the boys that they had now. It didn't seem… right. How do six people spend all their lives trying to kill each other end up joining forces and suddenly growing to like each other? More than that, actually. She glanced at Brick, who laid down his cards and called out his hand. Butch swore at him, and Brick simply shrugged. He looked at Blossom, and their eyes met for a split second. He smirked. Blossom looked away, smiling to herself. Then, a sad feeling suddenly struck her, her smile falling into a grim sneer. He really wouldn't be around much after this, would he? Then another feeling struck, and she laughed. Two years ago she would've never thought twice about him; now, after this whole mess, she would definitely be thinking about him a lot more than she cared to admit. Funny how things work out…

At dusk, they turned the television off and packed up their things to go. Boomer showered and borrowed one of Brick's dress extra shirts, so he wasn't half-naked with that nasty scar on his chest. After that, they left their room, Brick generously tipping the host, and they were on their way. Finally they took off west, and within moments, a sparkling sun-like light danced upon the horizon.

"They weren't kiddin' when they called it 'bright light city,' were they?" Butch yelled through the wind.

"You can see it from space," Blossom grinned.

Like a pool of gold coins and precious diamonds, Las Vegas glittered into view. A cacophony of sounds buzzed in their ears, from the honking cars along the strip, to the brassy horns blasting in the music venues, to the excited titter of the tourists, and straight to the endless clinking of coins dropped into machines. Blossom could recognize some of the famous casinos right away - the colorful castle of the Excalibur, the delightful half-scale replica of the Eiffel Tower at the Paris, the God-like beam of light at the Luxor, the elaborate pirate ship of Treasure Island, and of course, the ivory walls of Caesar's Palace. Hundreds of warm searchlights waved up to the clouds as if beckoning the angels themselves into Sin City. You could almost taste the greed in the air, a mixture of hot sweat, throat-burning smog, and cold metal.

The King's Casino was clearly the tallest casino, towering only a few stories short of the Stratosphere needle. The glassy walls mirrored the city's starry lights, the five rainbow rays of the heroes snaking through the reflection. Blossom led them to the very top of the building away from the sightseeing tourists below. They landed on the roof with Blossom stopping dead center, Boomer and Bubbles near the edge, and Brick and Butch a short distance away. Butch immediately zoomed over to Blossom, already shivering with excitement. "Alright, so, we go in, knock the bitch out, grab Bridie, and go home. Yeah? That's the plan, right?" Butch looked at Blossom expectantly. "No, that's not the plan," Blossom shook her head. "I highly doubt Colette would make it that easy. We have to play this her way..." "Then what's her way?" Butch demanded, folding his arms across his chest.

"Negotiate," Brick answered simply.

"Brick's right," Blossom agreed. "We need to find a way to negotiate with her. She has Bridie, and anything that would anger Colette and endanger Bridie any more won't do. Barging in there would cause a scene, which Colette already demanded we not do."

"Okay, so we sneak in," Butch corrected with a huff. "Then we knock the bitch out, grab Bridie, and go home."

"No," Brick chuckled. "We don't sneak in. We go in there, alert her that we're here, and then meet with her. It's that simple. This is business, and we should treat it as such."

"Good thinking," Blossom commented. "We need to set this up right. Somehow, we need to make a deal or-"

"Make her an offer she can't refuse?" Butch suggested. He held up his hand and curled his fingers into a fist. "I'll make her an offer she can't refuse."

"I wish you didn't do that," Brick grumbled, holding his face in his palm.

"First things first," Blossom continued, completely ignoring Butch. "We go in there and alert her that we're here. But I highly doubt we can't just... call a meeting or something with her. I bet her goons are armed with Z like the rest of 'em, and the last thing we need is any more surprises. So we'll need to do something else to get her attention..."

"But you just said we can't barge in!" Butch cried.

"I know I did," Blossom said calmly. "We need to find a way to let her know we're here but not cause a scene. We're gonna have to be clever..."

"D'you think the cameras might be of any use?" Boomer asked, peering over the edge of the roof. Blossom narrowed her eyes, then rushed over next to him, quickly followed by the others. The five stared directly at a camera at the entrance, so tiny that only they could notice it from their distance.

"Actually," Blossom grinned, the light bulb blinking on above her head. "The cameras are perfect."

Without a second thought, Blossom leapt off the building and rocketed to the ground. The others bounded after her, and they landed right before the entrance in seconds. Blossom glanced up at the camera, then turned to them.

"You see it?" she said, nodding back at the camera. The others looked up at the camera, then back at her, confused. Blossom grinned.

"Follow my lead."

Then, in literally the blink of an eye, she blasted the camera right off the wall. Boomer, Butch, and Bubbles continued staring at Blossom, their faces morphing from confusion to complete befuddlement. Brick, however, smiled.

"Get the Queen's attention..." he said.

"-and don't make a scene," Blossom finished, smirking. She turned back to the others. "Avoid the workers. If you run into something, qui-et-ly take them aside and then get rid of 'em. If Colette is smart at all, she'll get this message and we'll 'make an appointment.'"

"Are we supposed to just blast the cameras like that?" Butch exclaimed. "'Cause that's not making a scene at all..."

"Butch, I'm sure you can be creative, right?" Blossom asked sweetly.

"That might be an issue," Brick chided.

"Fuck off," Butch spat.

"Then just do your best, Butch," Blossom said. "All of you. Let's go."

* * *

Ace wasn't kidding - the King's Casino was definitely the largest casino on the strip. Buttercup really didn't have to try very hard at all to find it. She slithered through the clouds, camouflaged within the darkness, her glowing green eyes locked onto the building. She stopped mid-air several yards away. She wanted to just step in there and blast the place Scarface-style, or at least Powerpuff-style, considering she didn't have any guns. That might be a problem, though. She had no idea where Bridie was anyway. Perhaps her best bet was to sneak in there - through the shadows, of course - find Bridie, take her, and just head home. But weren't her sisters and the boys on their way? What if they were already there? She didn't know. But that building looked awfully big, and to find her family alone would take more time than she would like to waste. Buttercup carefully surveyed the building from her distance. Perhaps she could see something through the windows?... No. Nothing. X-ray vision wouldn't help her either; too many people in the way. How else does one find out where everything is without searching every room, every floor...

Then she saw it. A microscopic red light blinking near the entrance. A camera. Buttercup's barely existent eyebrows flickered. That's it! The security cameras! The thought barely processed before she took off towards the casino and zipped through the entrance.

It wasn't too hard to find the surveillance room. Buttercup hung a right through the employee entrance and slipped through a tiny crack under a locked door. The room was very dark, only lit by the myriad of monitors and a few cigarettes. A dozen men sat around, staring intently at the tiny screens, one or two munching on some snacks. None of them noticed Buttercup hovering above them. She chuckled to herself. She then scanned the screens, glancing at some blackjack players, some people drifting in and out of bathrooms, a handful of slot junkies, a couple making out in a hallway... Each screen showed nothing interesting, though Buttercup did glance back at the couple that was now practically getting it on. Her stomach twisted, but she ignored it and went back to searching the monitors.

Then… on the screen almost dead center... a large warehouse-like room, filled with crates and tables. In the upper corner stood two figures: a tall, bald man visibly yelling at a small dark-haired girl. The little girl was floating, her posture clearly defiant and uncaring. Buttercup's heart skipped.

"Bridie…"

"Huh?"

Buttercup jumped as one of the men whirled around in his chair. He looked around the room, his sleepy, heavy-lidded eyes scanning the walls. Buttercup relaxed, though, smirking to herself. She was still hidden in the shadows; the man wasn't going to see her. After a moment, the man relaxed, too, and went back to his work. Buttercup rolled her eyes, heading towards the door.

Suddenly, another image caught her attention. Buttercup backed up, her eyes narrowing on a screen near the top of the wall. Another familiar faced grinned up into the camera, as if smiling to the viewer herself. Her long red hair waved as she turned her head to the side… and blasted the picture into white fuzz.

"Blossom!" Buttercup gasped. The same man from before whirled around once more, but was immediately distracted by another co-worker.

"Hold up – lost signal on screen four," the man announced. He fiddled with some controls as the other men paid only mild attention to him. Buttercup could feel her heart pounding even more.

"I can't seem to get the signal back…" the man spat as he furiously tapped a button repeatedly. Buttercup leaned in closer, glancing at all the other screens. A few moments later, Buttercup saw her sister again, closely followed by both of the blondes Bubbles and Boomer. Buttercup grinned. Blossom looked up at the ceiling, turning until she saw the same camera. She pointed, waved, and Bubbles blinked. The camera unfocused, and then fuzzed out.

"Screen seven's out, too!" called another worker.

"What the hell's going on?" demanded the first worker.

Buttercup eagerly waited for another camera to go. Sure enough, the ninth, tenth, thirteenth, and sixteenth screen flickered out. The last one even showed a glimpse of a very surly-looking Brick. Buttercup sank a little as she realized the one face she didn't see, but nonetheless, she was literally trembling with happiness.

The workers exploded into a buzz of befuddlement, all of them hunching over their control panels and tapping away. Buttercup had had enough, though. She glanced back the screen with Bridie and the bald man, who seemed to have settled down and were both standing idly by a table. Buttercup didn't know where they were, but with her sisters here, she would know soon enough. With that, she snaked past the workers, under the door, and back into the casino.

* * *

Colette sat at her desk, gingerly rubbing her temples as she thought. Las Vegas was much more exciting now after hours, but the excitement did nothing to her impending rage. Thankfully, no one was around, so she was allowed to express this as freely as she wanted. So, she silently contemplated the execution of these ridiculous "heroes" that had caused her so much trouble.

The desk phone rang. Colette pursed her lips as she jabbed the answer button.

"Hello?"

"Ms. Spades?" said a husky man's voice. Colette frowned.

"Yes?"

"We seem to have an issue in the surveillance room. All the cameras are whiting out," the voice said.

"Well, who do you think I am? Tech support?" Colette said, her voice dripping with bitterness.

"No, ma'am," the voice said. "But, uh, we seem to keep sighting the same few faces before the cameras go out. We wanted to know if you wanted to take a look?"

"Yes!" Colette snapped. She could hear the man fumble with the phone on the other line. She must have burst his eardrum. "Hook me up."

Colette grabbed a remote from her desk drawer and flipped on the giant LCD screen on the wall across from her desk. The screen flickered on to a whirring black screen, then to a crystal clear image of the lobby.

"This is a recording," the man mentioned as the video fast forward a few seconds. Just then, a woman with long red hair whipped onto the screen. She looked into the camera, grinned, and the video blinked into white fuzz.

"Miss Blossom Utonium," Colette said to herself, smiling.

"We also have another red-haired guy, a cute blonde chick, a tough-looking black-haired guy and a surfer-looking dude…"

"_Merci_, sir," Colette said. "That'll be fine."

"What do you want us to do down here?" the man asked.

"Sit back and relax for a while," Colette replied. "I'll take it from here."

"Er… uh… okay…" the man mumbled to himself. "Thanks. Bye."

The man hung up. Colette made a mental note to find out who that employee was (and fire him later). She then clicked the television off, tucking the remote back into her desk. She stood up, quickly straightening her dress suit and smoothing out her hair. Her reflection glared at her from the LCD screen, her cold brown eyes glinting dangerously. She smiled.

"Showtime…"

* * *

Meanwhile, Butch strolled down a row of slot machines, several customers sipping free drinks and flushing their life savings away. He licked his lips, the tangy scent of martinis tickling his nose. He considered grabbing a drink, but his stomach churned at the thought. His ears suddenly perked at the sound of a small electronic sizzle a few yards away. He then saw Bubbles smiling to herself and skipping away. Butch nodded, and then nonchalantly eyed the ceiling for a security camera.

"What the hell are you waiting for?"

Butch turned to see Brick's cold red eyes glaring at him over a machine. Butch scoffed.

"I'm doing my best. I'm playing it cool," Butch soothed. He leaned against a slot and glanced up at the ceiling again. His eyebrows twitched, noticing a camera above him. Brick followed his brother's gaze… and then promptly blasted the camera with an eyebeam. Butch snorted.

"The slot junkies don't notice shit," Brick hissed, emphasizing his point by waving a hand in front of a nearby customer's face. The customer didn't even blink. Brick turned on his heel and chided over his shoulder, "Quit stalling and keep blasting!"

Butch wrinkled his nose, but said nothing. He grabbed a customer's drink right from her hands and poured it down his throat. He shoved the glass back into the customer's hand, ignored the nauseating churn in his gut, jammed his hands in his pockets and sauntered off.

Buttercup followed the trail of short-circuiting cameras, searching for her family and crawling against the wall like a shadowy chameleon. She had no idea what her family was up to, but she figured it had to be some clever plan. She went with it, blasting a camera or two on the way. Whatever was going on, though, they were doing a good job, because they were just nowhere to be seen. Buttercup glided past the craps tables, several bars, even the performance stage (which was noticeably empty). Nothing. She sidled around to the slot machines, her already worn patience disintegrating with every step.

_"Quit stalling and keep blasting!"_

Buttercup stopped. She knew that voice! Against everything she stood for, she felt herself beam as none other than Brick stalked right past her. Buttercup opened her mouth to speak – but then, another face near the slots caught her eye. Her smile disappeared, and she instinctively backed into the wall just as Butch sauntered around the corner. She didn't believe it. He was here… and he was right there. Buttercup couldn't tell if the heaviness in her chest was rage or… something else.

She spoke.

"Butch?"

Butch stopped, an eyebrow rising. He twirled around to look behind him. Buttercup spoke again, louder.

"Butch!"

Butch twirled around again, and stared at the wall. He ran a hand through his hair, stopping to wiggle a finger in his ear. Buttercup groaned and slipped away from the wall. She spoke once more.

"Butch."

Butch turned in her direction and she stepped forward. Butch froze as the darkness melted off Buttercup's body, her shoulders slumped and her expression indistinct. The two just stared at each other, unsure of how to react. Buttercup's eyes flickered strangely, and Butch blinked over and over again. He wasn't sure what was more surprising – the weird black stuff on Buttercup's skin or Buttercup herself standing before him after all this. A beat thudded in his chest, and his body faltered.

Then… he smiled.

"Oh, what a sight for sore eyes!" Butch stumbled forward, his arms open wide. Buttercup took a step back, but Butch leaned in for the embrace. "Man, if there was anyone else I've wanted to see more, I don't—"

Suddenly, at the last second, Buttercup's face twisted and… she socked him.

Butch staggered backwards, his hands shooting up to his face. An explosion of pain burst through his face and he felt a warm liquid dripped from his lips. Buttercup seethed, her fist still floating in the air and her eye twitching with fury. Butch spat out a mouthful of blood.

"WHERE THE FUCK WERE YOU?" Buttercup yelled.

"Whaa… what?"

Buttercup punched him again. Butch fell back, the pain splitting through his fingers this time.

"Where were you? Where did you go?"

"Fuckin'… Christ!" Butch groaned.

Buttercup reeled in for another blow, but Butch held up a hand quickly deflected it with a blazing green energy shield.

"Where was _I? _Where were _you_?" Butch countered.

"Trapped in a basement," Buttercup replied simply, striking him again. "What's your excuse?"

"I was here," Butch answered, deflecting her attack. "Looking for Bridie."

Buttercup spun around, prepping for a roundhouse kick. Butch dodged it, and then grabbed her from behind as she spun again. Buttercup struggled against him, her chest heaving.

"Trapped?" Butch repeated.

"Yeah," Buttercup said. "And I learned a few things. Like this—"

Then, Buttercup disappeared. Butch stumbled over, his arms clumsily wrapping around nothing but darkness. He stepped back and looked around.

"What the… where'd you—"

_WHAM!_

Butch fell to the ground, and Buttercup chuckled to herself from the shadows. Butch groaned again, gazing up at the wall as he rubbed his jaw. Buttercup's face emerged, her eyes twinkling dangerously.

"What… the fuck… was that?" Butch huffed through pained breaths.

"I figured out my powers," Buttercup announced proudly. "And I'm _not _pregnant."

"Good," Butch coughed. "Then I can do this."

A bright green energy ball whizzed from Butch's hand, but Buttercup stood her ground. The ball spiraled right through her camouflaged body and exploded on the wall behind her. Dust and debris rained down behind her, and she was mildly surprised to see that none of the customers even noticed. Butch stood up, his mouth hanging. Buttercup grinned.

"Dumbass," she chuckled. With that, Buttercup's torso flashed into view as she powered up an even bigger energy ball and fired it right at Butch. He didn't have time to react - in an almost cinematic moment, the ball smacked him right in the chest, sending him through the air, over the machines, over the customers… and right through the wall.

"BUTTERCUP!"

Buttercup turned to see Blossom, Brick, Bubbles, and Boomer all gaping at her from the hallway. Blossom stared at Buttercup, a mixture of shock and fear plastered on her face.

"NO!" She cried out.

"There you are!" Buttercup exclaimed happily. She looked away through the crumbling hole in the wall. She could just barely see Butch on the stage, his clothes smoking. She beamed, then turned back to Blossom. "Hold on – I gotta finish this."

"No, Buttercup!" Blossom roared. Buttercup ignored her and rocketed through the hole, the darkness slipping off her skin into her green blaze.

"So much for not making a scene," Brick snickered from the side. Blossom shot him a nasty look, and then looked back at the hole.

"What was the black stuff on her?" Bubbles asked quietly.

"I don't know," Blossom sighed. "But we gotta stop her before she blows any more holes into our plans."

Blossom led Bubbles and Boomer into the other room while Brick lingered to gaze at the customers still engrossed in their games. A couple of mean-looking, well-dressed guards across the room didn't look too pleased, though, as they pulled glittering pistols out of their pockets and headed towards him. Brick's bottom lip curled, and in one swift move, he shot a small flame at the closest fire sprinkler on the ceiling. It knocked the nozzle, and the entire system showered into action. That finally got the customers' attention; they looked up and around, almost confused as to what was going on. After a moment, though, they began to file out of the casino around him. Blossom suddenly appeared from the hole, glaring at him.

"What did you do?" she shrieked.

"Got the idiots out of here," Brick laughed. He glimpsed back at the guards, covering themselves with their suit jackets. He zipped over to Blossom. "Let's take care of Bonnie and Clyde, shall we?"

"I highly doubt we can stop anything now," Blossom said gravely, noticing the guards, too. Brick leapt through the hole, and he and Blossom headed towards Bubbles and Boomer.

The sprinklers continued to rain down upon them, and Buttercup had tackled Butch on the stage, desperately trying to pummel the life out of him. Naturally, Butch deflected blow after blow, only missing an occasional lucky strike. The others hovered across the room from them, Blossom pausing to figure out the best way to intervene. Guards started pouring in from all the exits, wielding their guns at them. Blossom frowned. There was no use stopping anything now. _Any minute,_ Blossom thought.

"What are we supposed to do?" Boomer asked behind her. Blossom held out a hand.

"Wait," she replied.

"Blossom," Brick sang into her ear. "The guards…"

"Forget it," Blossom said. "We'll take care of them soon."

"But—"

"Wait."

The four watched Buttercup and Butch continue to duke it out. Brick, Bubbles, and Boomer looked at Blossom, waiting for her to do something. She just stared ahead, frequently glancing at the guards surrounding them. She listened to the water splattering onto the marble floor, the clicking of the hammers on the guards' guns, and especially to Buttercup's curses cutting through the showers. _Any minute._

"You stupid—" _SMACK! _"—fucking—" _SLAP! _"—asshole!" _WHOMP!_

"Buttercup…" Butch whimpered, staring up at her and shielding his face.

"Jerk!" Buttercup shrieked, whopping him again.

"Buttercup!" Butch yelled more frantic.

"No!"

"Stop!"

"NO!"

"STOP!"

"NO!"

"Yes..."

Buttercup froze. She stared down at Butch, water dribbling down off her soaked hair. He looked up at her, frightened. Buttercup slowly sat up, an icy feeling on her neck. She shivered. It didn't feel like the sprinkler water. The feeling pressed into her neck, and then slowly moved up to the back of her head. Butch crawled out from under her, his horrified gaze locked onto her. She glanced at him… and smirked.

"Are you done?" asked a sickeningly sweet voice behind Buttercup.

"Yeah," Buttercup replied. She looked over her shoulder, coming face to face with the barrel of a silver pistol. She then looked up at the gunman, or more importantly, the gun_woman_.

"Spades…" she chuckled.

"_Bonsoir_, Buttercup."


	19. Chapter 19 :: Poker Face

**Chapter 19 - Poker Face**

Colette smiled down at Buttercup, pressing the pistol against her forehead. Buttercup thought she looked less intimidating in person: she was very tall, but very thin, and though she was very attractive, she looked like she had missed a few days of sleep. Still, her cold glare was disconcerting, and to anyone who wasn't a superhero, the gun fit so perfectly in her well-manicured fingers that it was at least chilling. Buttercup, though, was too jaded for this shit. She grinned.

"Shoot me, bitch," Buttercup snickered. "I dare you."

Colette pressed the gun further, shoving Buttercup down onto the stage. Colette's smile never faltered.

"You're familiar with Z, right?" she asked. Buttercup winced. Perhaps Colette was scarier than Buttercup originally thought.

"Lemme guess - your bullets?" Buttercup said.

"_Oui_," Colette replied. "Everyone of them. Specially made _pour moi_."

Buttercup chuckled, but said nothing else. She glanced at Butch, who was kneeling behind her with a faceless gunman aiming a pistol in his face. She then turned to her sisters and the boys, all of who were completely surrounded by more armed guards. Blossom was the only one who looked poised, unafraid. Buttercup sighed and turned back to Colette. Colette's plump red lips widened, revealing her pearly teeth in an oddly charming grimace. She gestured towards her sisters, still pointing the gun at Buttercup.

"Get over there," she commanded. Buttercup begrudgingly obeyed and floated over to the others, closely followed by Butch. Colette kept her gun pointed at the two of them until the six stood together in the center of the room. Bubbles put a sympathetic hand on Buttercup's shoulder, while Boomer gave Butch an empathetic look. Butch nodded that he was okay. Buttercup did not respond. Blossom looked at her, smiling sadly.

"Nice of you join us," she said softly.

"Yeah," Buttercup sniffed.

"When did Mange come back?" Blossom asked suddenly. Buttercup stared at her, and Blossom gave her a knowing look. Buttercup nodded with a small smile.

"Since everything fell apart."

"I figured..."

"Can someone do something about the rain, _s'il vous plaît_?" Colette demanded curtly. After a moment, the fire sprinklers died down to a dull trickle. The place was still soaked, from the blackjack tables to the plush theater seats. Colette didn't mind, though, as she turned back to the heroes.

"Wow," Colette exclaimed, sounding thoroughly unimpressed. "Only... what, five days? I appreciate you arriving in a timely fashion."

"Where is she?" Buttercup asked coldly.

"Where's Bridie?" Butch chipped in. Buttercup's cheek twitched.

"She's here," Colette said shortly. "But first, I believe you have a ransom to pay."

"Show us the girl and we'll show you the money," Blossom said. Colette eyed her. Then she nodded.

"Fair enough," she said. "Jack! _Viens ici! Avec la fille._"

With an angry stomp, a haggard-looking Jack stormed onto the stage, dragging through the air a scared Bridie. Butch and Buttercup immediately cried out.

"BRIDIE!"

"MOMMY! DADDY!" Bridie struggled against Jack, who shoved his own gun against her face. Bridie gasped, as Butch and Buttercup simultaneously cried out once more.

"LET HER GO!"

"In due time," Colette insisted. "But first, we had a deal."

"We did _not_ have a deal!" Buttercup suddenly screamed. "You _stole_ her! You... you kidnapped her. You kidnapped my... my baby..."

"Our baby," Butch corrected quietly. Buttercup's cheek twitched again.

"You stole my money," Colette reasoned simply. "Well, maybe not _steal_, but you definitely lost me a lot of cash. This was the least I could do..."

"Bitch!" Buttercup spat.

"Oh, please," Colette rolled her eyes. "You don't scare me, honey. I mean, didn't I have you locked up all week?"

"Yeah," Buttercup said. "But it's all good. How's your girl Clubs doin'?"

"_Touché,_" Colette grinned. "That's okay. She was dead weight anyway. Too... impulsive. And aggressive."

"You took care of Clubs?" Brick asked Buttercup. Buttercup smirked.

"She's lucky she's still alive..." she chuckled.

"So's your daughter," Colette laughed. She looked at Jack, who tossed Bridie over to her. Colette aimed her gun at Bridie. Butch and Buttercup straightened up.

"Like I said," Colette continued, ignoring Bridie's terrified whimpers. "We had a deal. Where's my money?"

"We don't have it," Blossom announced. The others all turned to her, horrified. Colette raised an eyebrow.

"You don't have it?" she verified.

"No," Blossom said. Buttercup stared at Blossom, the panic literally visible in her watering eyes. But Blossom remained calm, glancing at Bridie, then back at Colette.

"That's a shame," Colette said gravely. She looked at Bridie. "She's adorable."

"No!" Buttercup shrieked. She turned to Blossom. Blossom turned to her, perfectly composed. She didn't even wince as the tears welled up in Buttercup's eyes. Buttercup's lip quivered, and Blossom noticed her body – clothes and all - fade in and out strangely. Buttercup took a small step backwards next to Bubbles. Her foot sank and blended into the strong shadow of one of the gunman. Nobody else noticed this but Blossom. She nodded thoughtfully then turned back to Colette.

"Any last words to Baby?" Colette asked quietly. Buttercup stared at Bridie, trying so hard not to sob that she couldn't say anything. Butch was actually trembling, his body shaking anxiously. Bridie looked at her family in sheer terror. Colette clicked her tongue.

"Well, okay then." She pulled back the hammer on the gun. "Say _'Bonsoir!'_ to mommy and daddy."

"WAIT!"

Brick, Buttercup, Bubbles, and Boomer turned to Blossom, who's voice reverberated through the hall. But her voice echoed with another's - Butch. Blossom looked at Butch, and slowly the others followed her gaze, as he took a painful step forward. He looked at Colette, a trail of blood dripping down his eyebrow.

"Please," he said quietly. "Please don't do this. She... she didn't do anything."

"How sweet..." Colette cooed. "But this was the plan."

"Well, then shoot me."

The others gaped at Butch, especially Buttercup. He wiped the blood off his face, rubbing it on his jeans, and stared at Colette. He laughed.

"I'm already fucked," he said. "I am... I'm a real a shithead." He laughed. "I am actually probably the biggest asshole on the planet. I mean, I don't mean to be, really, but, you know... I like - liked - to drink. And smoke. I still like smoking. I could use a cigarette now really."

"You're monologuing," Colette snapped.

"Yeah, I guess, but hear me out!" Butch exclaimed. "Whatever the hell you think we did to you... Sorry? I guess? But don't hurt a little girl who did nothing in this whole thing. It's... well, it's my fault she's here anyway. I… I shouldn't have left... but don't - hurt - _her_. If you're gonna get rid of anyone, get rid of me. Shoot me. Shoot me, and let her go. Let them all go."

Butch had practically fallen to his knees. There was a torturously long silence. Blossom looked at Butch, then at Colette, then Bridie, then finally Buttercup. She had never seen her sister look like that - Buttercup's mouth hung slightly, her shoulders slumped, and tears draining softly from her eyes. Her body had stopped flickering with darkness, her skin crystal clear, but she seemed seconds away from falling to her knees as well.

"That's... really touching..." Colette said softly. She had even lowered her gun. Then, she aimed it back at Bridie. "But this concept of, well, a loving father-daughter relationship means nothing to me. Sorry, deal's a deal. And you guys failed."

"We failed?"

This time, they all turned to Brick, who took a brave step forward. He knocked Butch aside, who staggered to his feet and stumbled back towards the group. Buttercup still eyed him strangely. Meanwhile, Brick glared at Colette, tilting his head to the side.

"_We_ failed?" Brick repeated. "Oh, no. I think _you_ failed, Colette LaBlageuer."

"Fratellino, eh?" Colette asked. She lowered her gun once more, nudging Bridie aside. Jack immediately grabbed her and aimed his gun before she could react. Colette continued. "How did _I _fail, Fratellino?"

"It's Brick," Brick corrected. "You're not privileged enough to call me that. And how _didn't_ you fail? Well, I mean, you were the one who invested too much in some bitch who's notorious for being a spoiled brat and for being a frequent jailbird. Then you failed to protect your allies, who, by the way, suck at being allies. I mean, at least Lila was cute, but she was way too easy to bring down. Heh, get it? Easy? 'Cause she was a dirty slut."

Colette's lip curled.

"And your assets? Look what we did to your casino. You didn't even _mention_ the gaping hole over there-" He pointed to it. "-And I know that's gonna cost a pretty penny. Someone must not care too much about it, huh?"

Colette's eyebrows furrowed, her expression darkening. Brick continued, his fiery red eyes blazing.

"Oh, and above all? Did Daddy not hug you enough or something? Because what kind of family member - business family or real family - kills their own boss? And your father, too! Of course you have no concept of a father-daughter relationship! You betrayed your father, and you betrayed your family. Rule number one of being a mobster, babe: Never - betray - the family. I would never be where I am now if it weren't for the Guerellis, the family who trusts me, who benefits me, and who protects me. From the law, of course. So the least I can do is do the same in return. I would give all my limbs and both my nuts to protect my boss - _my_ father, really - because that's my job. My duty. But that means nothing to you, does it? Because you betrayed - and failed - everyone. And you know what? You lost the one thing that means more than money in this business: respect. No one respects you, Queenie. Why? Because you're a lying, cheating, treacherous cunt. _Vive la victoire_? Heh, yeah... More like _Vive la conne!_"

With that, he flicked his fingers off his chin, in a whole-hearted Italian "fangul." Colette's nostrils flared, her grip on her gun tightened, and she was literally seething between her clenched teeth. Then, with a single deep breath, she recomposed herself. She smiled, smacking her lips slightly.

"Spoken like a true mobster, Brick," Colette said carefully. "Though there's still no evidence that says I killed anyone, so we'll just ignore that whole part." She looked at them all as Brick silently sidled back with the group, snickering to himself. Colette's smile widened. "Anymore outbursts before we finish this"

"Yes, actually," Blossom spoke. She stepped forward, and there was a noticeable buzz of irritation amongst the gunmen. Blossom ignored them and looked at Colette. "So tell me… If we did have the money, how many birds would you kill with one stone?"

"Hmm…" Colette purred thoughtfully. She stared at Blossom, a strange look on her face. She looked curious, almost… impressed? She chuckled. "How many do you think, Blossom?"

"Eight," Blossom replied confidently. "At least."

"And since you don't have the money?" Colette asked, her tone expectant.

"Seven, clearly," Blossom answered. "Though I wouldn't be surprised if there were more."

"Blossom," Bubbles chirped quietly. "What are talking about?"

"Isn't it obvious, guys?" Blossom asked her sisters and the boys. "It didn't matter if we had the money. Colette was gonna kill us here anyway."

None of them made a sound. Bubbles and Boomer shifted awkwardly, as Butch, Buttercup, and Brick gawked at Blossom. Then, they all turned to Colette, who beamed.

"_Oh mon dieu_, Blossom," she giggled. "You ruin _everything_, you know that? Now I can't make my villain speech, huh? _Parle-moi_ - what gave me away?"

"Well," Blossom chuckled. "It's not that difficult, to be honest… and I can explain it by answering all the basic questions."

"Please," Colette said, folding her arms across her chest. "Filibuster away."

"First and foremost," Blossom began. "What you wanted was both your money and our heads. Why? Because Brick and I foiled your business arrangement with Princess Morbucks. But when you found out about the rest of us, including our siblings and Bridie, you figured you'd just take us all out together. Seven accumulative threats to your business out of the way, right? So you devised the plan to kidnap Bridie and bring us all here. But that leaves the 'who,' 'when,' and 'how' to be answered. The 'how' covers everything, though; it's the 'who' and 'when' that were your biggest variables.

"You knew who we were, but you had to make sure we knew you, so we would be at the right place at the right time. That's why you threw the blossom-covered brick in our window with the playing cards. You assumed Brick here, who was already worried about your original hit on Don Guerelli, would understand the clue, or at least know how to figure it out. At the same time, you made no real efforts to hide your identity, even if it could indict you in a court of law. But because you knew us, you knew we would take matters into our own hands and not go to the police. Kudos.

"But the 'when' was an even bigger variable because you couldn't just bring Bridie here right away, nor were you willing to play in our field at home. You needed to buy time. So, you asked for a very large sum of money, which you know we couldn't afford without some serious legal involvement. And because we didn't have the money, and you knew we wouldn't, and because you told us not to find you, which you knew we'd believe, you figured – correctly – that we would try the next best thing: find your 'sisters.' But your sisters proved to be way too easy, and a little too loose-lipped for my comfort, so I'm guessing that was a goose chase to buy your time while your 'personal assistant' made his way from Townsville to Vegas. Another good scheme in your intricate plot.

"Finally, when we did show up here, we blew a hole in your casino, just as Brick mentioned. Even though you said specifically not to come here and trash the place, we did. And what was your reaction? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. That's what gave you away. You react as if everything is still according to plan despite our disobedience, because, well, _it is_ still according to plan. Your plan. Congratulations. Despite every risky gamble, you pulled it off. Very smart. Bravo."

"..._Merci beaucoup,_" Colette nodded, tapping her gun to her nose.

"How'd you figure that out?" Brick asked to Blossom from the side. But she ignored him and spoke once more.

"You're also very lucky."

"Maybe," Colette agreed. "Or I just know how to play the cards in my favor."

"Well, if that's so," Blossom said slowly. "Then perhaps you're willing to play one more game?"

Colette's ears perked up. She tilted her head to the side, and she eyed Blossom curiously. Blossom's family and the boys turned to face her, too, just as curious. Blossom shrugged.

"I mean, if you're feeling that lucky, and if you're that good at, uh, _playing the cards in your favor_, how about we challenge you to a game. We win, you let us go. You win, kill us as planned. What d'ya say?"

"Blossom!" Buttercup hissed at her sister. "What are you doing?"

"Yeah, are you nuts?" Brick hissed from Blossom's other side. Once again, Blossom ignored them, staring straight ahead at Colette. Colette seemed just as incredulous, though she seemed more impressed than anything. She suddenly tucked her gun into the holster at her side and stepped off the stage. Head high and hands clasped behind her back, she very slowly made her way towards Blossom. She stopped a foot away, staring intently into Blossom's eyes. They darted around, scanning Blossom's face as if searching for something. After a pause, Colette nodded.

"What game did you have in mind?" she asked Blossom.

"Blackjack," Blossom answered without a second thought.

"Blossom..." Brick whispered, nudging her arm. He shook his head violently, but Blossom barely noticed him in her peripheral. Colette did, though, and grinned.

"Ah, so you don't know the legend about my father David and I, do you?" she asked.

"I do, actually," Blossom said.

"So then you do know that I beat my father at this game, the game he spent most of his life winning?"

"I do."

"Is that why Fratellino is ever so quietly objecting to your challenge?" Colette asked, glancing at Brick.

"Probably," Blossom replied, shooting Brick a nasty look. He narrowed his eyes at her, but with a single glare, Blossom made it clear to him to butt out. Brick snorted. He glared right back, then at Colette. Colette clicked her heels together, and looked at Blossom, all business.

"Since we're playing in 'my field,' the specs are as follows and are not negotiable: single deck, hit soft 17, no push, no resplitting, no double, no hole, no insurance, and no surrender. First to $500 wins, none of this 'best two out of three' nonsense. You win, you leave; I win, you die. _C'est bien?_"

"_Oui_," Blossom agreed.

"I'm only one person, though," Colette added. "And I'll only play against one of you. So… pick your challenger."

"Easy," Blossom said. She glanced at the stage. "Bridie."

There was a tremendous, simultaneous gasp amongst the heroes and many of the gunmen. Colette's upper lip stiffened, as she turned around. Bridie, who had been noticeably quiet for a while, twisted uncomfortably in Jack's grasp. He yanked her back and she shot him a nasty look. Colette turned back to Blossom, her eyes narrowed.

"What are you playing at, Red?" she questioned.

"Bridie knows how to play blackjack, and is just as a good a player as any of us. Since it is mostly her life we're bargaining, I believe she's entitled to play," Blossom reasoned.

"Yeah, but can she actually _play_?" Colette asked, practically spitting out the last word.

Suddenly, Buttercup grabbed Blossom by the arm and whipped her around in front of her. Blossom winced as Buttercup clenched her sister's shirt and brought her face dangerously close to hers. Buttercup's eyes glittered with menace.

"What – the _fuck_ – are you doing?" she hissed. From around them, the other four were clearly wondering the same thing, each giving Blossom their own questioning look. Magnificently, Blossom pulled herself from her sister's grasp, her face cool. She straightened out her shirt and turned to Bridie. She smiled.

"Bridie, you know how to play blackjack, don't you?" she asked sweetly.

"…Y-yes," Bridie stuttered.

"Did mommy teach you how to bet?"

"Yes."

"Then it's settled," Blossom announced, clapping her hands. "Bridie will be our champion."

"Blossom, no!" Buttercup snarled.

Then, Blossom whirled around to her sister. She stared at Buttercup with the utmost serious – and expectant – expression. She furrowed her eyebrows, and spoke.

"Buttercup, did you or did you not teach Bridie how to play blackjack?" she asked slowly.

"Yes, I-I did, but—"

"Did you or did you not teach her how to bet?"

"Yes, I did, but—"

"Buttercup."

Buttercup gaped at Blossom helplessly, not getting at all what her sister was saying. Blossom's eyes flickered, and she spoke once more, carefully.

"Is she or is she not a much _luckier_ player than any of the rest of us?"

...Buttercup's eyebrows flashed. She glanced at Bridie, choking back every urge to argue. She was just a little girl. How could she possibly play, especially under this pressure? What if she made a mistake? They could lose literally at the blink of an eye. But… Bridie saved them once. Before she was even born, at that. And after all that work spent "teaching" her how to play, perhaps luck _was_ on their side.

Or skill?

"Bridie," Buttercup whimpered. Bridie looked at Buttercup, eyes wide. Buttercup forced a smile. "_You're_ gonna play the world in _your_ favor, right?"

Bridie looked away unsure. Then, a similar look of understanding grew on her face. She smiled and nodded. Buttercup beamed.

"That's my girl…"

"You realize that all of my workers 'round here are specially trained in card-counting, right?" Colette asked suddenly. "They can catch a cheater in a heartbeat."

"Oh, I'm sure they are," Blossom said gravely. "We're not trying to pull a fast one on you. I realize Bridie is an unusual choice, but a smart young woman in unfavorable circumstances can do wonders."

"I'm sure," Colette sniffed. "And since you're just so _heureuse_ about your decision, I'm going to have to just take it, huh?"

"_C'est vrai,_" Blossom said with a nod.

"_Alors,_" Colette muttered. She stepped over to the nearest blackjack table, motioning for the heroes to follow. They did, Blossom and Buttercup leading the way followed by Brick, Butch, Bubbles, and Boomer. Colette wiped the wayer off her chair and glanced at the gunmen. "Someone call over a dealer. Jack, bring the girl over here."

Jack stepped off the stage, dragging Bridie through the air with him. Then, Bridie made a noise and quickly spun out of Jack's grasp, twisting his arm in the process. He yelped.

"You little-!"

"I can fly over there myself!" Bridie snarled, floating over to the blackjack table alone. Blossom glanced over her shoulders to see Butch and Buttercup both grinning proudly. Jack stumbled over near Colette as Bridie took the seat across from Colette, sitting on her knees to see high enough. Colette watched her, her face remarkably blank. Bridie looked up her. She blushed a little.

"Miss Colette?" she squeaked.

"_Oui_?" Colette grunted.

"I want my mom and dad with me," she requested. "I want them to sit with me."

"I don't think so," Colette said shaking her head.

"Please? They won't help me, I swear," Bridie begged.

Suddenly, Brick hopped over to her. The others watched as he knelt down and whispered something into Bridie's ear. She listened carefully. Then he stood up and floated back to the others. Bridie glanced back, very confused. Then, she sighed, and turned back to Colette.

"_Excusez-moi,__ madam,_" she said slowly, looking back once more at Brick for reassurance. Brick nodded and gestured for her to continue. "_Mais je voudrai mes parents ici avec moi parce qu'ils sont très importants a moi. Je les aime. __Laissez-les s'asseoir avec moi,__ s'il vous plaît?__"_

Bridie looked at Colette, unsure of what she had just said. The others felt the same way, glancing at Brick inquisitively. He kept his eyes ahead at Colette. Colette rolled her eyes, one eyebrow raised. She looked up at Brick, smirking.

"It's the least you can do," he chided.

"Last request, huh?" Colette asked. Brick nodded. She looked at Bridie. "_D'accord, _they can sit with you."

Butch and Buttercup turned to each other. Buttercup bit her lower lip, thinking of something to say. Butch simply smiled, his thoroughly blackened eye wincing. Buttercup opened her mouth, hoping the right words would simply fall off her lips. But Butch relieved her by silently grabbing her hand and pulling her towards their daughter.

"We'll talk later," he whispered, and the two of them joined Bridie on each side of her. Buttercup immediately pulled Bridie towards her, pressing her lips against Bridie's baby soft head. Butch placed a strong hand on her back. Brick and the others hovered a foot or two away from the table, the guards still circling around them, guns at the ready. Within a few minutes, one of the gunmen had forced a mousy, pimple-faced dealer through the crowd to the table and handed him a deck of cards. The dealer gulped. He pulled out some chips, placing equal little towers in front of both Bridie and Colette. He then grabbed the deck and shakily tried to shuffle the cards. Colette stared at him, tapping her manicured nails on the damp green table.

"Miss Colette?" Bridie suddenly chirped again. Buttercup and Butch, for whatever reason, instinctively scooted closer to her.

"_Oui, mademoiselle,_" Colette grumbled.

"One more small request, uh, _s'il vous plaît__?_" Bridie asked happily. Colette glared at her.

"What?" she snapped. Bridie made an annoyed face at the gunmen.

"Can you _please_ make the guys put their damn guns away? I'm tired of guns being pointed at me."


	20. Chapter 20 :: Blackjack

**Chapter 20 - ****Blackjack**

As requested, Colette told the gunmen to lower their weapons, though they all understood to keep them ready just in case. The croupier shakily shuffled the deck until he had relaxed enough to deal properly. Colette, as well as Butch and Buttercup, resisted the urge to yell at him to hurry up already, but after a few shuddering breathes, he'd calmed down enough to deal. He set the deck down and slid it in front of Colette, allowing her to cut the deck. Very carefully, making sure as to not show any accidental slips, she picked up part of the deck, put it aside, then placed the other half on top of the other deck. The croupier slid the deck back, and began to hand out the cards.

Colette and Bridie placed out the ante of twenty bucks, and flipped over their cards. Three hands, two cards apiece, six cards altogether. Colette won right away with two face cards, Bridie a nine and a seven, the croupier a face card and an eight. The croupier pulled the cards back into the discard pile and dealt again. Colette was given a sixteen, Bridie twelve, and the croupier thirteen with a face card. Colette hit – and bust with twenty-four. Butch and Buttercup snickered as Bridie upped the ante to forty dollars, staring up at the croupier nervously. She tapped the table to hit, and was dealt an Ace. She hit again – another Ace. She paused a moment, then anted up to sixty. She hit again – a two. At sixteen, she stayed. The croupier, of course, had to hit, and he dealt himself a nine. Bridie won the hand. The croupier dealt again.

The first deck flew by fairly quick. Bridie was winning for awhile, much to the delight of her parents and the rest of the gang. But Blossom had noticed a certain coolness in Colette, which worried her to say the least. From the looks of it, the Queen was just getting started. After the last few cards, the croupier gathered the cards and prepared to shuffle. Bridie sat up a little, staring intently at the cards.

Suddenly, the croupier shuffled differently, performing a few fancy flourishes before setting up to deal again. Buttercup, naturally, spoke up.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! What the fuck was that?" she demanded. "You're shuffling the cards weird!"

"I'm guessing you've never been to a casino before," Colette said smugly. "The dealer must do additional, sometimes unusual shuffles in order to randomize the deck. Gotta keep cheaters off, _n'est-ce pas_?"

"That's bullshit," Butch commented.

"That's blackjack," Colette retorted.

The croupier dealt, and they went through the deck again. Bridie didn't do so well this time, Colette taking an uncomfortable lead of almost $200. After all the cards were dealt, the croupier gathered them again and prepared to shuffle. This time, Bridie was more prepared. The croupier did the fancy shuffles again, and Bridie did not take her eyes off for a second. Blossom silently urged her niece not to make herself obvious, but Colette didn't even seem to care, casually picking at her fingernails. Then, for some reason, the croupier seemed a bit more nervous than before. He stared at the deck, a strange look on his face. Whatever it was, though, passed fairly quick and he confidently dealt the first hand.

"Twenty-one!" Bridie squealed. Sure enough, before her lay an ace and a jack. Her family cheered as Colette's jaw dropped, more surprised by this win than she probably should've been. She turned to the dealer, one eyebrow raised. He tried very hard not to notice her piercing stare. He and Colette bust, so he collected the cards and dealt the next hand. He continued to ignore Colette, hoping she would eventually stop.

"Twenty-one again!" Bridie cried out. Her family cheered once more, and Colette threw another nasty look at the dealer. She lost with eighteen, the croupier bust again, and he still avoided Colette. He gathered the cards once more, dealt, and Bridie got another blackjack.

"Twen-ty-one!" Bridie sang, happily gathering her winnings as her family cheered again. Blossom, though, bit her lip, noticing Colette narrowing her eyes at Bridie. Then she turned to the dealer.

"_Crètin_," she hissed at him as he discarded the hands.

"Wow, Bridie, you're awfully lucky today!" Blossom called out, hoping her niece would notice her strained tone. Bridie glanced over her shoulder, confused. Blossom sniffled. Then, as luck would have it, Colette won the next hand, her icy expression melting a little at the success. She nodded at the croupier, and both he and Blossom sighed in relief. As long as Bridie didn't get too confident, they should be safe.

For now.

Bridie and Colette were both at around $350, Bridie slightly in the lead. The croupier gathered the deck and shuffled again, flourishes and all. Again, Bridie didn't miss one card, and the moment the croupier dealt, she got another blackjack. Suddenly, Colette frowned. She glanced at her hand, a measly twelve, then back at Bridie's blackjack. Her lip curled. She turned to the croupier. At long last, he looked at her, giving her a weak, apologetic smile before dealing the next hand. Colette's eyes narrowed. Blossom, though, smiled, finding this exchange enlightening, to say the least.

The next deck went by a lot slower, Colette now taking her time with each hand. But to Blossom's surprise, Colette seemed more interested in the croupier than Bridie. Every now and then he would flash her an anxious look, and Colette would simply make some irritated face. And as Bridie won again and again, Blossom figured the Queen should be more suspicious of Bridie than the dealer. This, too, was rather enlightening.

The stacks of poker chips rose, and it was only a matter of time before Bridie broke $500. In fact, one winning hand was all she needed. Bridie and her family leaned close excitedly as the croupier shuffled the deck one last time and Bridie worked her magic once more. All of a sudden, Colette spoke.

"Croupier?"

"Ou-Oui, madam?" The croupier whimpered.

"Shuffle again," Colette commanded. "Four times. Behind your back."

"What?" Butch and Buttercup exclaimed simultaneously. Bridie's eyes widened as her parents almost leapt out of their seats. Blossom's lips tightened. She knew this was coming.

"What are you worried about?" Colette asked sweetly, her eyes flickering.

"Nothing," Butch said indignantly. "It's just… You know… You could be—"

"Cheating?" Colette finished for him.

"…Yeah," Butch mumbled.

"Well, how do we know he's not slipping you cards or something?" Buttercup asked.

"How about he shuffles three behind his back and once in front of us," Colette suggested. "No fancy flourishes or anything, just one clean table riffle."

Buttercup bit her lip. Bridie looked up at her mother, her tiny lips quivering with fear. Buttercup couldn't bear to look at her, and instead turned to Blossom. Blossom figured Colette was trying to randomize the deck completely, especially before this next hand. She was not completely concerned, the worst that could happen being Bridie would lose some money and the game would go on longer. At the same time, that might give Colette an advantage and possibly bring her back in the lead. It was dangerous, but what choice did they have? It was up to Lady Luck now. She nodded at Buttercup. Buttercup made a face, then looked back at Colette. She nodded.

"Good," Colette said. "Go ahead, dealer."

The croupier paused to position the deck properly in his hands. Then he slowly put his hands behind his back and shuffled three times. He brought the deck back to the front and placed the cards in a messy stack on the table. Then he did a quick table shuffle, taking extra care not to flash any cards. From the look on Bridie's face, she didn't work any of her magic into this shuffle. Meanwhile, Colette stared at her, smiling. Finally, the croupier dealt the next hand…

…and he immediately dealt Bridie a blackjack.

Bridie gasped as Butch, Bridie, Bubbles, and Boomer all cried out in joy, Butch and Buttercup hugging Bridie tight between them. Brick let out a small sigh of relief, and Blossom erupted in shaky laughter. The croupier looked just as surprised as the others, scooting the cards back to him and already putting them back into the box. Even Jack, who had been lurking nearby the entire time, was stunned, his shoulders slunk and his mouth agape. But one person looked anything but surprised—

In a snap, Colette stood up, kicked the chair out from under her and aimed her gun at Bridie. She seethed,

"How'd you do it? How did you do it, you little cheat!"

"She won fair and square!" Buttercup snarled, bearing her teeth at the Queen.

"Liars!" Colette cried. She waved her pistol at Buttercup. "I know she cheated, and I want to know how she did it! No one is that lucky!"

"How do you know?" Blossom asked suddenly, zipping to Buttercup's side. She stared intently at Colette, speaking very clearly. "How do you know she cheated, Colette?"

"Because I do," Colette snapped. "Like I said, no one is that lucky."

"But how you do know?" Blossom urged, leaning forward. Butch, Buttercup, and Bridie quickly floated towards the others, leaving Blossom alone before the Queen.

"Because!" Colette cried out again.

"What proof do you have?" Blossom asked.

"I don't _need_ proof," Colette retorted.

"Then how do you know Bridie cheated?" Blossom demanded, her voice loud and clear. Colette groaned, squeezing the grip.

"Because! Because…" She huffed. "_Because I was cheating, too_!"

"WHAT?" Brick exclaimed, voicing exactly what all the heroes but Blossom were thinking. He zipped over to Blossom, shoving her out of the way, and glared at Colette. Blossom floated over to the others, a small smile on her face. This was working out better than she expected.

"Yes, boohoo, I was cheating, too," Colette chided, rolling her eyes. "My dim-witted dealer stacks the deck for me with his fancy trick-shuffling. Everyone knows this. Now you tell me how the girl did it."

"You really are a lying, treacherous bitch!" Brick growled. Colette narrowed her eyes at him, now aiming her gun at his chest.

"You already said that, _mon cher_," she scoffed.

"So lemme guess – is that how you beat father dear?" Brick demanded, folding his arms across his chest.

"Of course," Colette sighed. "And then I had him killed, _et cetera, et cetera_. I'm pretty sure that was an understood fact. And if everyone didn't figure it out before, they know now."

"You're a disgrace!" Brick roared. "You're a disgrace to your family, a disgrace to yourself, and a disgrace to underground criminals everywhere!"

"Oh, spare me another wordy lecture!" Colette moaned.

"No! You listen to me, _putain, _I think…"

While Brick and Colette bantered, Blossom glanced at the others, noticing that they were huddled rather close together. Perfect. She tugged on Buttercup's arm, getting her sister's attention. Buttercup glanced at her as Blossom whispered in her ear.

"Is Mange bullet-proof?"

"What?" Buttercup muttered.

"Is Mange bullet-proof?" Blossom repeated, more intently.

"I-I guess you can say that," Buttercup replied off-handedly. "Why?"

"Good! Then on my signal, you need to shield all of us in the shadows."

"Wait, what?" Buttercup hissed.

Colette shoved her gun into Brick's chest and he staggered back a few inches. Her red lips curled into a nasty sneer. Brick's chest heaved, his blood just boiling at Colette's confession.

"I don't give a damn what you think, _ordure_, I know the girl cheated, and as far as I'm concerned, you lost!" Colette yelled.

"That's right, go back on your word, double-crosser! Do what you've always done!" Brick chastised.

"I will!" Colette snickered. She glanced at her gunmen. "Boys, on my signal!"

Jack stepped up behind Colette and aimed his gun between Butch and Buttercup at Bridie while the guards aimed theirs at the rest of the heroes. Buttercup's stomach lurched violently. She turned to Blossom.

"Blossom…" Buttercup choked.

"Wait for it," Blossom whispered. She reached for Brick, making sure to keep her leg close enough to Buttercup.

"I'll see you in hell, Queenie," Brick snarled.

"I'll be waiting," Colette said.

"Blossom!" Buttercup yelled.

"Wait!" Blossom yelled back.

"BLOSSOM!"

"WAIT!"

"FIRE!"

"NOW!"

In what seemed like one enormous explosion, all the guns fired at once creating a storm of smoke and bullets. The gun smoke billowed around the room, blinding the guards and wafting into their lungs. But they keep firing, coughing and choking through the black air, until all the guns clicked out of ammunition. Colette tried to breathe through her sleeve, waving her other hand around to clear the smoke. After a few minutes, the smoke cleared enough into a dim, gray fog.

"Are they—" Cough. "—dead?" Colette wheezed, struggling to see. When no one replied, she asked once more, louder. Again, no reply. She coughed and stumbled around the blackjack table to where the heroes once stood. She looked around, her eyes burning.

"Where are they? Are they dead?" Colette shouted.

Then, she spun around to see two fiery red eyes glaring at her from the darkness. A face shimmered through the smoke, smirking triumphantly. Brick spoke.

"Nope. Not dead."

_WHAM!_

Brick smashed his fist into Colette's face, and the room erupted into chaos. No one could see anything, but Brick could hear Blossom, Bubbles, and Boomer pummeling a series of guards nearby while several yards away, Butch, Buttercup, and Bridie teamed up against a very unlucky Jack. Fists flew and eyebeams ricocheted around him while body after body fell to the ground with heavy thuds. Brick punched Colette again, her blood gushing on his fist. He grinned.

"Welcome to hell, Colette!" he cackled.

Blossom spun into a perfect tornado kick, her feet walloping a few guards at once. Bubbles and Boomer tag-teamed a particularly large guard, Bubbles punching him in one direction and Boomer slapping him back at her. At the same time, Buttercup tossed a terrified Jack into the air, allowing Butch to smash him back to the ground with a sickening crunch. Butch zoomed back down and grabbed Jack by the back of his head.

"So what did you do to Bridie while you were 'baby-sitting' her?" he demanded. Jack spat out some blood with a great sob.

"Nothing! Nothing!" he moaned desperately.

"Oh, I'm sorry, man, but I don't believe you!" Butch mocked, and promptly smashed Jack's face into the tiled floor.

"Hey Bridie!" Buttercup called, a sea-green streak blazing past her face. Bridie hovered next to her as the two looked down at Butch pulverizing Jack below.

"You've never fought before, have you?" Buttercup asked her daughter.

"No," Bridie giggled.

"Well, allow me to show you how to kick some ass, okay?"

Then, Buttercup blasted a pair of guards stumbling through the smoke, knocking them clean off their feet. Buttercup led Bridie to them and proceeded to beat the stuffing out of one them, naming each move she performed for Bridie.

"Roundhouse kick."

_POW!_

"Undercut punch."

_THOOMP!_

"And one of my favorites: the Undertaker."

_CRASH!_

"That's it?" Bridie asked, amazed. "That's so easy!"

"It is!" Buttercup laughed. "Now try it on this guy, and then ask your dad if you can finish off that asshole Jack."

Bridie turned to the other guard, who looked up at her pleadingly. Bridie narrowed her eyes and grinned. "Heck. Yes."

Colette staggered back, her bottom lip quivering and her chest heaving. Brick grinned. He socked her again and again, in the jaw, in the stomach, on her arms… One bone-breaking slap across the face sent her flying into the wall, her skull cracking with a sickening crunch. Brick hovered over to her, his red eyes glittering. He smiled. He kicked her side, breaking several ribs, and Colette choked out a mouthful of blood. Brick snickered.

"Hurts, don't it?"

Meanwhile, the smoked had cleared almost completely, and Blossom whacked two of the last gunmen down with a double-punch. She stopped, surveying the situation once more. Boomer and Bubbles rounded up the final few guys while Butch, Buttercup, and Bridie finished annihilating Jack. One last blow to the head from Bridie's tiny fist knocked him cold, and Butch and Buttercup immediately congratulated her with warm embraces. Blossom nodded then looked for Brick. Blossom found him… and she gasped.

"Brick!"

Brick, who had been readying up another punch, paused and glanced back at Blossom. Blossom gaped at Colette, then at Brick. Her eyes widened. Brick snorted and wrinkled his nose at her. He glared at Colette. Then… he lowered his arm with a great sigh. He didn't want to do it. Colette didn't deserve it. For the all the trouble she caused and all the shit she put them through, she didn't deserve one ounce of mercy. She deserved to die, and to suffer in hell for all eternity. But this would require Brick to believe in hell. And he didn't. Brick's fury was way greater than anything hell could ever dish out, and Colette was paying for her sins right here, right now. And Brick loved playing justice.

"How do you feel?" Brick asked Colette. She wheezed, her whole body trembling with agony. She opened her blackened eyes slightly… then squeezed them shut. Brick leaned close to her, smirking.

"Ezekiel 25:17: 'And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know my name is the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon thee'…"

Colette sniffed, her face twitching.

"I'm not religious, but I do love me some Tarantino! I've always wanted to say that," Brick chuckled. "You had enough?"

Colette continued to tremble. Brick considered for a moment that maybe she couldn't reply – she _was_ on the brink of death. Finally, ever so slightly, she nodded her head.

"Wrong," Brick snapped. "You _will_ continue to pay for everything you've done. Death is too good for you."

He laid a hand on her arm, the wounds pulsing under his fingertips. He urged his powers to his hands, and immediately Colette convulsed as her body healed in record speed. Blood dissolved back into her skin, bruises faded back into creamy white, and the cuts knit themselves back together. After a few excruciating seconds, Colette inhaled a great breath of air into her freshly healed lungs. Brick backed away and she sat up, panting. She stared at him, astonished.

"A warning, though," Brick whispered. "If you even try to make a comeback, and if you try to seek vengeance, I will not be so generous next time."

Colette cowered against the wall, wrapping her arms around herself and biting her lip. She tried to swallow, her throat completely dry. She didn't speak. Then, after a moment, she nodded.

"Good," Brick spat. "Enjoy prison."

With that, he struck her hard on the back of the head and she collapsed to the floor, unconscious. Brick turned and faced the others, who were now standing together in a group watching him. He locked eyes with Blossom. She smiled graciously. Brick rolled his eyes at her and zipped back over to them. Buttercup groaned.

"Are we done yet?" she groaned. "Can we go home now?"

"Of course," Blossom announced. She hovered up into the air, looking around at the mess. It was a disaster: bodies strewn all over the place, smoking wafting up to the ceiling, broken tables and chairs littering the floor, holes punched into the walls and floor. Blossom didn't even want to think about the damages…

"This has got to be cleaned up," Blossom sighed.

"And we gotta make sure someone gets the bitch into custody," Brick said, gesturing back at Colette.

"So we call the police," Bubbles suggested. "And we drop off the Queen personally."

"She's not the Queen of anything anymore," Blossom said, floating back to the ground. "Though I hope she has enough money leftover to pay for all these guys' medical expenses."

"Especially that Jack's," Butch laughed. Bridie and Buttercup snickered with him.

"Alright," Blossom started, pulling out her cell phone. She was mildly surprised to see it still worked, after all this. She flipped it open and dialed 911. "Someone grab Colette. We'll deliver her to the nearest police station and then make sure the cops get here to help these guys."

"Then we go home?" Bridie asked. Blossom looked at her niece… and grinned.

"Yes. Then we go home."


	21. Chapter 21 :: Peace Lies Within

**Chapter 21 – Peace Lies Within**

"Grandpa!" Bridie shouted, her tiny voice echoing through the cool autumn air of Townsville. She led the seven of them past the city and past the suburban neighborhoods down to their street, their colorful blazes visible even in the hazy moonlight. It felt wonderful to be home again, Blossom and her sisters all feeling an intense sense of relief. Even the boys enjoyed the familiar air whipping past their windswept cheeks. Bridie called out again.

"Grandpa!"

"Professor!" Buttercup joined in, looking at Bridie. They beamed at one another, and the two of them called out again simultaneously.

"_Grandpaaaa_!"

"_Professorrrr_!"

Within seconds, the Utonium Chateau was visible below, the three circular windows glowing brightly. They then saw a small figure stagger out the front door, straining his neck as he looked up to the sky. The Professor, still in his robe and pajamas, stared up at them joyfully. Bridie squealed and after a quick burst of sea green light, collided full force into him, knocking him off his feet.

"Bridie, sweetheart!"

"Grandpa!"

The two collapsed into the grass, Bridie hugging the Professor and blubbering into his shoulder. Butch and Buttercup landed near them, the others touching ground shortly after behind them. The Professor sat up, still cradling Bridie in his arms. He looked up at Butch and Buttercup.

"I knew you could do it," he said, smiling. Bridie slid off the Professor's lap, and Buttercup reached down to help him up. He stood up, and then immediately embraced his daughter. He held her tight, and even Buttercup let out a few heavy sobs into her father's shoulder. As they pulled away, the Professor wiped the tears away from his daughter's eyes. Buttercup chuckled shakily.

"It's good to see you smile again, Buttercup," the Professor said gently. He turned to Butch. Butch smirked and took a small step back, suddenly uncomfortable. The Professor's smile widened.

"Don't act like that," the Professor chuckled. He stepped over to him, arms wide. "Come here, son."

He hugged Butch, who almost jumped out of his skin, unsure of how to react. Then, he very awkwardly patted the Professor's back. Buttercup watched them, and couldn't help but bust out laughing. Professor pulled away and looked at Butch.

"Thank you."

"…Yeah. Y-Yeah, no problem," Butch stuttered.

"And thank you for coming back," the Professor added.

"Yep…"

"I'm so proud of you all," the Professor said the others. Blossom and Bubbles grinned, as Boomer shuffled nervously next to them. Brick stood a few feet away, hands behind his back and smirking coolly. The Professor nodded at him, and then took a step over to Boomer. He put a hand on Boomer's shoulder, and Boomer winced. Then, just as suddenly, he relaxed, the gesture much more calming then he imagined.

"Well," the Professor started, reaching into the pocket of his robe and pulling out his signature corncob pipe. "I believe this calls for some tea, coffee, and a full retelling of this adventure,"

"Well, duh!" Bubbles exclaimed.

"I'm hungry!" Bridie said suddenly. "Can we make breakfast?"

"It's three in the morning," Blossom commented.

"So?" Butch snorted, pulling Bridie up in the air and into his arms.

"Breakfast sounds delicious," the Professor announced, lightly nudging Boomer towards the front door. "Chocolate chip pancakes and scrambled eggs and toast…"

The Professor entered the Chateau, followed by Butch, Buttercup, and Bridie. Bubbles bounded forward, grabbing Boomer's hand at the same time and dragging him through the front door. Blossom hovered over to the door. She stopped, her toes grazing the gray pavement. She turned around. Brick was still standing idly on the front lawn, his deep red eyes sparkling.

"You can join us, you know," Blossom said. Brick chortled, pushing off the ground and floating towards her. Blossom closed the door, still facing Brick. His eyebrows flashed as he approached her.

"That was magnificent back there," Blossom said. "What you did to Colette. I wanted to tell you earlier, but, you know…"

"Hey, well, your scheme to make her confess was pretty good, too," Brick retorted, shrugging his shoulders. "Not to mention having all the guards use up their ammo while we hid in the shadows. Pretty clever." Blossom nodded. They hovered in silence a moment, crickets chirping softly nearby. Then Blossom clicked her tongue.

"Since you're not coming in, I'm guessing you're leaving, huh?" Blossom asked curtly. She pursed her lips into a small pout.

"Yeah," Brick admitted. His smirk faltered a little. "I gotta tell my boss everything. I think I'll get a raise. Maybe a promotion. I kinda saved his life, sort of..."

"Good luck with that," Blossom chided, her voice containing only a hint of sincerity.

"What, you pissed at me?" Brick questioned, one eyebrow raised.

"No," Blossom spat. Then, strangely, her expression softened. "Just… didn't think you'd leave… right away."

"It's just business," Brick reasoned. "And, uh… I'll be back."

"Eventually," Blossom said. Suddenly, a small smile broke on her face. She looked away, trying very hard not to look at Brick in the eyes. "You'll let me know."

"Of _course_," Brick groaned, rolling his eyes.

"Oh, don't sound _too_ happy about it," Blossom teased. "God forbid you have to keep in touch with me, good lord."

"I'm not too happy about it," Brick said quietly. "It's a shame, really, that that's how it's gotta work."

Blossom finally looked up at him. He stared at her, his eyes glowing. Blossom's smile faded. There was another long silence, the crickets sounding louder by the second.

"Well, uh, we can, um, stop being awkward now," Blossom stammered finally. She grasped the doorknob nudging her backside. "See you later, Brick."

She whirled around, turning the knob as she went, and opened the door. Then, just as fast, Brick slammed the door shut, whirled Blossom back around, and pressed his lips against hers. They kissed, long… hard… almost violently. Blossom felt herself melt to the ground, a strange burning exploding in her chest. After several seconds, Brick pushed himself away from her and flew back several feet into the air.

"Don't miss me," Brick snickered, licking his lips. Blossom leaned against the door, trying to catch her breath and smooth some fresh tangles out of her hair. She snorted.

"I won't," she said defiantly.

"Good," Brick grumbled. "Make it like you care or something."

"Oh, please," Blossom scoffed.

"_Au revoir, ma cherie,_" Brick called, spinning up into the air and waving his hand. Blossom smirked and held up her hand.

"Bye, Brick."

And in one fiery streak through the sky, he was gone. Blossom waved once, smiling to herself. She turned around, grabbing the doorknob once more. She sighed, and before could she prevent it, the fire in her chest faded into a painful twinge. She sighed again, deeper. She knew this was how it was going to be, and a part of her was disappointed in herself for feeling like this. But… this is how it's gotta be. Oh well. _C'est la vie,_ eh? Blossom huffed, turned the knob, and went inside.

Everyone was already in the kitchen preparing food and jabbering away, the Professor flipping pancakes and Buttercup dishing them out to the rest of them at the table. Bubbles and Boomer sat together across from Butch and Bridie, two empty seats next to Butch and one next to Bubbles. Blossom heard the shocked gasps of Buttercup and the Professor as Bubbles retold the night at the club, wording the part about her dancing very carefully, given the audience. Butch heartily added the part about Boomer getting stabbed, who suddenly joined in quite eagerly to tell his part of the tale. The smell of coffee and buttermilk pancakes tickled Blossom's nose as she floated in the doorway, soaking in the happy atmosphere. Bubbles finally noticed her after a few minutes.

"Hey you! Where's Brick?" she asked right away.

"He had to go back right away," Blossom replied, ignoring the twinge in her chest. "He sends his regards, though."

"Bitch," Butch snarled, cutting up a stack of pancakes for Bridie. "He's gotta tell his side of things. We're all doing it."

"Did you already talk about the lumpkins?" Blossom mentioned.

"Oh, shit!" Butch cried out, passing the plate over to Bridie. "The fucking lumpkins! And the drinking contest, whoa man…"

"Drinking contest," Buttercup repeated shortly, not even looking at Butch.

"It was my idea," Blossom told her sister, much to Butch's delight. Butch pulled his own plate towards him, swallowed a syrupy pancake whole, took a large sip of coffee, and started to explain himself.

"Well, see, here's what happened…"

Blossom took the seat next to Bubbles as Butch retold the whole visit to the warehouse, Bubbles and Boomer adding the occasional remark here and there. Buttercup didn't seem very impressed with Butch, no matter how much he stared intently at her the entire story. Blossom could sense that her sister was less irate than she acted, though. After that story, Blossom, Bubbles, Boomer, and Butch finished telling their entire adventure, though they conveniently left out some of the juicier details including Butch's tear-filled hangover and Bubbles and Boomer's relationship (not that the latter wasn't obvious, though.) After that, it was Bridie's turn to tell her side. Her family was glad to hear how well she put up with that Jack character, though Butch and Buttercup were less than happy to hear how he put up with her.

"Well, he'll be recuperating in a hospital for at least a month," Buttercup growled.

"Then he'll be fresh meat for the inmates afterwards," Butch added. He and Buttercup then shared a silent moment of agreement, though they refused to meet eye to eye.

"Hey, Buttercup?" Blossom said suddenly, stirring some sugar into her coffee.

"Yeah?"

"Where were you?" Blossom questioned, steering them onto the next important story.

"I told you guys," Buttercup said. "Locked in a fucking cellar for almost a week, thanks to the Queen of Clubs and her Gangreen minions."

The others each made their respective noise of surprise, and Buttercup went into her story. She told them all about the Z injections, Evie Strike's infamous temper and her comeuppance, Ace's heel face turn, and most importantly, her shadow powers.

"So that's really your special power, right?" Bubbles asked hopefully. "And you're not pregnant. _Right_?"

"Fuck no," Buttercup barked. "Thank God… I'd kill someone."

Butch made a particularly strange face, almost… hurt. Buttercup didn't seem to notice, and continued.

"But no, I'm not pregnant, and yes, I guess those are my powers. I'm glad I finally figured it out."

"We're glad, too," Blossom assured. "It really helped us out in the end."

"It did," Buttercup chuckled, her eyebrows flickering. "I don't know what would happen if I didn't figure it out in time. I guess I just got lucky."

"Luck had nothing to do with it," the Professor said sagely. "It was in you all along. You just had to figure out how to use it at the right time."

"…Well said, Professor," Buttercup said with a nod.

They spoke a while longer, mostly small talk now about how good it was to be back home. They finished eating, carelessly tossing their dishes in the sink when the Professor promised to take care of them in the morning. Blossom could feel a certain heaviness overwhelming her, the exhaustion finally catching up to her. And from the looks of the others, she wasn't the only one: Bridie dozed soundlessly on Butch's lap, and Bubbles stifled a yawn as the Professor started to nod off in his chair.

"I think we oughta catch some shut-eye now," Blossom announced, pushing back her chair. A buzz of agreement went around the table as the others stood up. Buttercup carefully lifted Bridie off of Butch's lap and carried her into the living room. On his way out, the Professor skipped over to them and gave them both a kiss on the forehead. Afterwards, he bid the others good-night and headed upstairs to bed. Bubbles led Boomer to the couch, and Butch and Blossom took opposite armchairs, all of them practically collapsing in their respective seats. Bridie snuggled against Buttercup, who held her daughter close and stroked her hair. The two curled up on the couch opposite Bubbles and Boomer.

The six of them shared a long, peaceful silence. Blossom, tired, though still pretty alert, observed them quietly. Boomer was completely out, mouth hung slightly, his breathing faint. Bubbles nuzzled against his arm staring off into space looking very pleased with the world. Butch had a funny expression on his face as he looked around the room, his eyes frequently falling on Buttercup and Bridie. Blossom gazed at her sister and niece, too, and suddenly, her heart fluttered with a warm, gentle sensation. The sight of them, mother and child together at last, was just too precious. In fact, she had never seen Buttercup so calm, so tender, so… at peace. It was no wonder that the only word that Blossom could find to describe Butch's expression was "lovesick."

Just then, Buttercup opened her eyes and looked at Blossom. She didn't speak, just… looked. Blossom smiled warmly. Buttercup didn't react for a moment… then, she smiled back. Her eyes shined in the golden lamplight, a sunny glow on her skin. Despite the dark circles under her eyes, the untreated wounds all over body, and the emotional strain from this past week, Buttercup was… happy.

"Hey," Buttercup said, sitting up. She glanced at Bridie. "Can you… can you watch this?"

"Of course," Blossom said with a chuckle. She scooted off the chair and knelt before Buttercup. Buttercup slowly placed Bridie into her sister's arms, and just as slowly, Blossom scooted back into her chair. She moved some hair out of Bridie's face. Buttercup stood up and floated over to the front door, her hand just grazing Butch's knee. She turned back to Blossom.

"I'm gonna… you know…"

"I know," Blossom said with a nod. "Don't get nabbed again."

"I won't," Buttercup promised. She opened the front door, letting a crisp morning breeze billow into the room. She turned around one last time. She glanced at Butch, then back at Blossom. Blossom smirked. Finally, Buttercup left, closing the door behind her. Yet another silence occurred, and Butch stared at the door after Buttercup, his eyebrows furrowed. Blossom waited for Butch to do something – anything. Then, she sighed.

"You're supposed to go after her, Butch," Blossom spoke.

Butch sat up. "Wha– where?"

"Go _find_ her," Blossom snapped.

Butch stood up. He paused, gaping at the door. He looked at Blossom, then at Bridie, then back at the door. He gulped. Finally, he shot over to the door, tore it open, and slammed it shut behind him.

"'Bout time," Bubbles mumbled from the couch. She yawned once more, then rolled over against Boomer. Blossom shook her head, bemused.

"You said it…"

Butch zoomed through the air towards the city, an uneasy feeling in his stomach. He wasn't sure exactly where Buttercup was, which didn't help the fact that he wasn't sure exactly what he was going to do when he did find her. As luck would have it, though, after only a few seconds within city limits, he spotted her sitting on the ledge of tall skyscraper a few blocks away from the Town Hall. Butch stopped, hovering in mid-air for a moment. He sighed. Now or never, huh? As quietly as possible, he flew over to her, landing on the roof far behind her.

Buttercup didn't seem to notice him, facing the incoming sunrise. A breeze fluttered past her face, blowing her short ebony bangs out of her face. She looked tired, the bags under her eyes more prominent in the glowing sky light. Her eyes, though, shimmered curiously. Butch licked his lips, preparing the right words to say in his head as he floated near her and took a seat on the ledge a few feet away from her. To his dismay, she didn't move or acknowledge him in any way. The uneasy feeling in his stomach grew to full-blown nausea. He ignored it, though, and spoke.

"Hey."

Buttercup's eyebrows flickered. Butch took that as a reply. He cleared his throat.

"So, um…" he said, swiftly forgetting everything he wanted to say. He snorted, frustrated. He tried again. "Yeah… Uh… I… Um… I'm, uh… What I wanted to say was, um… I…"

"I'm sorry," Buttercup said softly. She still didn't look at him, but a tiny smile grew on her face.

"…Yeah," Butch burst, grinning. "I guess I wanted—"

"No," Buttercup interrupted. Butch looked at her, his stomach now flipping over on itself. "I'm sorry, Butch. I'm sorry for being a controlling bitch. I'm sorry everything worked out the way it did. I'm sorry for all those things I said to you. I'm sorry for treating you like shit half the time." She finally turned to him, the tiny smile now a serene smirk. "And I'm sorry I beat the shit out of you earlier."

Butch stared at her, eyes wide, mouth hanging stupidly. Buttercup chuckled.

"That black eye is pretty righteous, though," she commented, nodding at him. Butch's hand shot up to his left cheek, and he winced, pain stinging around his eye. He forgot about that… He laughed.

"Yeah, I guess," he agreed, rubbing around the bruise tenderly.

"And thanks," Buttercup added, her voice suddenly more serious than before. "Thanks for coming back."

"Yeah…" Butch mumbled.

They looked away from each other. They spent a moment in a surprisingly comfortable silence, Butch still massaging his bruise and Buttercup staring peacefully at the sunrise. The sky was growing lighter by the minute, a bright gold erupting from the horizon like flames. Butch stopped massaging his cheek and scooted closer to Buttercup, finally thinking of something worthwhile to say.

"So… I am never drinking again," Butch announced. "That shit makes me sick nowadays, since that contest. I mean, shit… OH! And I'm never going to a club ever again, not since my brother almost got stabbed by a fucking whore. Hot damn… and since I haven't had a cigarette in God-knows-how-long, I'm pro'ly quittin' that, too."

"That's nice," Buttercup said, unfazed, not looking at him again.

Butch blinked.

"Yeah… And, uh, I'm also sorry for all the shit I did, too. Especially walking out on you. That was… kinda shitty…"

"Really shitty," Buttercup corrected, simply.

"Really shitty…"

Butch stared at Buttercup. She was too uncharacteristically calm for this conversation. It was unnerving to Butch. He cleared his throat.

"Aren't you… You're… Do you hear what I'm saying?" he asked suddenly.

"Yeah," Buttercup replied honestly.

"Then why aren't you, like, screaming at me or something?" Butch demanded. "Aren't you mad at me? You should be yelling and punching me and kicking things and… I don't know. Being pissed."

"Okay, look," Buttercup turned to him again, the smile gone from her face and her expression utterly stern. "I'm tired of being pissed all the time. What the fuck does it do to you anyway? It gets your kid taken away from you by some stupid bitches. It gets you locked up and forced into this cage, powerless. It gets your ass kicked from here to fucking China. It makes you walk away from things you actually care about. And in the end, it just makes you alone. So I'm not gonna piss and moan at you. It won't do anything good. And besides, I already beat the shit out of you. I don't need to do it again."

Then, she turned away again, her eyes even brighter. Butch eyed her, both shocked and confused.

"So… you're not mad at me anymore?" he asked quietly.

Buttercup sighed. "You are who you are, Butch. I'm not mad at you for being you. I don't care what you do anymore. It's not like you changed much since we first got together. You're not really hurting anybody, anyway. And—" She looked at him, her face softening. "—_You came back._ You always do."

It was Butch's turn to look away. Oh, holy hell, he did not expect this to happen at all. He wondered for a second if this was a very elaborate set-up to an even greater beating than before. He glanced back at her.

"So… now what?" he asked.

"I don't know, Butch," Buttercup grunted. "You tell me."

She wasn't looking at him anymore, but instead at the silver cuffs on her wrist. Butch snickered.

"Are those handcuffs?" he questioned. Buttercup grinned.

"Yes, yes they are," she replied. Suddenly, her arm disappeared, and the cuffs fell into her lap. Her arm flickered back into view as she picked up the cuffs and dangled them before Butch. His eyebrows rose.

"Why do you have handcuffs?" he questioned further, taking them from her. He played with them, hooking and unhooking them over and over again.

"I got them in high school when I first decided I wanted to be a cop," Buttercup explained. "I lost them, but I got 'em back recently."

"How'd you lose them?"

"When I lost my virginity and locked Ace up to the bed afterwards," Buttercup answered nonchalantly. "I just really wanted to get him back for being a douche bag all those years."

Silence. And then—

"….BAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Butch fell back onto the roof, collapsing into a fit of laughter. Buttercup eyed him, smirking. Butch tried to speak to her through his fit. "I can't believe – _Hahaha_! – You actually – _Hahahahaha_! – Holy shit! – _HAHAHA_! – That's priceless…"

After a few moments, Butch finally got a hold of himself, and he crawled back to ledge, cuffs in hand, and leaned against the short brick wall. He looked up at Buttercup. She rolled her eyes. She then stood up, dusting the cement particles off her backside. Buttercup looked back at the sunrise once more, the brilliant light warming her whole body. She closed her eyes… and smiled. To be honest, she didn't really care what was going to happen anymore. She didn't think about it, really. All that mattered was that everything was okay. Her family was safe. The bad guys were taken care of. And maybe most importantly, she was at peace.

A thought suddenly came to Buttercup's mind. Words from a certain fortune cookie, of all things, whispered back to her in her own voice: "Be not violent or angry, peace lies within." She chuckled. Funny how she had forgotten that…

_Click!_

Buttercup opened her eyes. She looked down. On her left wrist hung one half of her handcuffs, the other attached to Butch's. Buttercup gagged, her lungs suddenly giving out on her. Butch led her off the ledge, and she floated into the air as Butch knelt down on one knee. He grabbed her hand, holding it tight.

"Buttercup, will you…" Then, Butch stopped, making a face. "Fuck! Okay, this is really weird because this is _so_ not us. So, uh, I have to say this right, because it's just gonna sound so fucking stupid. Buttercup… will you… sorta-kinda marry me? In a way that doesn't include fancy outfits and lots of people and… and shit?"

Buttercup glared at him. He looked up at her, and his expression slipped from nervous excitement to moderate anxiety and all the way down to utter fear. Buttercup's expression never changed. Finally, after an excruciatingly long pause, Buttercup spoke.

"Shut up! _Handcuffs_? You're proposing to me with _handcuffs_?"

"Yes!" Butch cried out indignantly, shooting up in the air in front of her. "Damn, I was trying to be, like, symbolic and romantic and memorable—"

"Oh, God, yes!"

"—and awesome – Wh-wh-what? What?" Butch stammered.

Buttercup flung her arms him, twisting Butch's arm up painfully around his neck. He cried out and Buttercup pulled back. She huffed. She grabbed his wrist and yanked her own, breaking the chain. Then she promptly hugged him again, practically knocking him out of the air. He hugged her back, his stomach now doing somersaults. His heart was pounding now, too, the heat spreading through his body. The sun beamed down on both them, a fiery glow engulfing their embrace.

Buttercup pulled back again, cupping Butch's face in her hands. She looked at him, grinning. Then, her eyes narrowed, a hungry look overtaking her expression.

"Should we do it now or wait till we get home?" she asked.

Butch raised an eyebrow… then returned her keen expression. "Do it now. Do it now!"

"Oh, but what if somebody sees us?" Buttercup asked, feigning apprehension. Butch rolled his eyes. He slipped his hands down to her hips and roughly pulled her pelvis against his.

"Let 'em watch."


	22. Epilogue :: Back to Normal

**Epilogue: Back to Normal**

The afternoon sun warmed Blossom's face as her light pink eyes fluttered open. She groaned, shielding her eyes and rolling away from the window. She opened her eyes again just wide enough to peek at the alarm clock. She sat up. It was already passed two. Really? She slept that long? Well, she _did_ fall asleep at sunrise… Nonetheless, Blossom slipped off her covers, slid her feet into her fluffy red slippers and grabbed her ruby red robe. She tied it on and headed to the bedroom door. Then she stopped, feeling an eerie sense of déjà vu. Then, too tired to care, she opened the door and made her way downstairs.

Blossom paused at the top of the stairs. She blinked, the déjà vu coming back right away. In the living room below, Butch, Buttercup, and Bridie were sitting on the couch playing that racing game again. But this time, Bubbles and Boomer shared a nearby armchair, Bubbles nestled comfortably on Boomer's lap, both of them cheering the others on. Blossom chuckled, the déjà vu disappearing and quickly replaced with another strange feeling. Less than twelve hours ago, they were thousands of miles away battling for their lives. And now things were already back to normal. Butch and Buttercup seemed to have made up, too, the two happily insulting each other as they played ("Oh my God, Butch, stop crashing into me!" "Fuck you, bitch! You're in my way!") Bridie bounced in her seat, her head bobbing to music playing quietly from the television. And from the smell of freshly brewed coffee tickling Blossom's nose, the Professor too was already back into the swing of things. Blossom had to admit the only weird thing was that Boomer looked unusually comfortable, but perhaps this was part of the norm nowadays.

Silently, Blossom floated down the stairs and headed into the kitchen. As expected, the Professor sat at the table, sipping his coffee and watching the excitement in the living room. He waved at Blossom.

"Afternoon, darling," he said softly. "Sleep well?"

"Actually," Blossom started, filling a clean mug with fresh coffee. "I did. Very well."

"Wonderful," the Professor said with a chuckle. Blossom took a seat next to him, stirring some sugar into her mug.

"Déjà vu, eh?" Blossom mentioned.

"Ohhh yes," the Professor laughed. "Almost too much."

"Did I miss anything?" Blossom asked. She took a sip of her coffee.

"You know, I was going to ask the same thing," the Professor replied. He looked at Blossom. "So… Bubbles? And Boomer?"

"Oh, yeah," Blossom said. "Long story."

"And the others made up, I suppose?"

"Can't you tell?" Blossom gestured at Butch and Buttercup, who were now kissing quite heavily for a moment. Bridie had to make a noise to make them stop.

"So what about Brick?" the Professor asked suddenly. Blossom winced.

"Oh, uhhh, what about him?" Blossom retorted, trying to sound casual.

"Is he back home?"

"Oh! Yeah. Yeah, he's back in Chicago," Blossom replied.

"He'll be back soon," the Professor said, though Blossom didn't like the slight confidence in his voice. She didn't like it when the Professor seemed to know more than he should. She sniffed.

"Yeah, probably," she said.

Just then, there was a knock at the front door. Blossom jumped, almost spilling coffee on her. She rocketed to the kitchen doorway and watched Buttercup peek through the eyehole.

"Delivery boy!" she announced. She opened the door and very happily repeated herself. "Delivery boy! Hiya!"

"Uhh, hi," spoke the awkward-looking, redheaded delivery boy. "I have a, uh, delivery. Um, is there a Blossom Utonium here?"

Blossom's ears perked up. Buttercup scoffed.

"Duh!" Buttercup scoffed. "Where are you from, Mars?"

Blossom zoomed over to the front door, pushing Buttercup away. She smiled warmly at the boy. "Hi, yeah, I'm Blossom."

"Hi," the boy mumbled. He shuffled uncomfortably for a second, and then thrust a clipboard and a pen into Blossom's hands. "Sign here."

"Er, no problem," Blossom said, scribbling her signature on the clipped-on paper and handing it back to the boy. She looked at him expectantly. "So what is it?"

Then, the boy handed her a slim manila envelope and two roses, one red, one pink. He tipped his hat, muttered thanks, and dashed off to his truck. Blossom stared at the things, having absolutely no idea where they came from. Buttercup shut the door next to her.

"Oooo, roses?" Buttercup jeered. Her tone dropped. "From who?"

"Yeah, where did that come from, Blossom?" Bubbles asked, hopping off Boomer's lap. Blossom hovered over to the empty armchair and sat. She gazed at the roses for a second, then placed them on the coffee table. She stared at the package, searching for a return address.

"I don't know," Blossom replied with a shrug. "I guess we'll just have to see."

She turned the package over and carefully pealed the envelope open. She reached inside and pulled out…

"My notebook!" Blossom exclaimed, opening it and flipping through the pages of her writing.

"Whoa," Boomer muttered as Bubbles laughed.

"Someone found it!" she squealed. Blossom nodded, smiling.

"I can't believe it," she said. "I'm… pleasantly surprised!"

"What did you get?" The Professor asked from the kitchen doorway. Blossom held up her notebook and the roses.

"My notebook that I lost in West Virginia! And some roses!"

The Professor made a face. "Roses?"

"I don't know either," Blossom chuckled. "Maybe just a nice gesture from whoever found this."

"And you still have no idea who that's from?" Buttercup asked next to her.

"Nope," Blossom replied. She flipped through her notebook again. Then, she noticed something. She opened her notebook wide and stared at the very last page. Someone had written something in a quick, angular scrawl. It took her a second to realize it was written in a different language, too. French, to be exact. She quickly glanced at the signature below the message… then slammed the notebook shut.

"Well, if you don't mind, I better put this stuff away," Blossom said, collecting her things and standing up. The others watched Blossom race up to her room, closing the door behind her.

Blossom tossed the roses and her notebook on the bed and hurried to her closet. She searched through the rubbish, tossing old clothes onto the carpet and ripping open taped up boxes. Finally, after several minutes, she found what she was looking for: an electronic translator. Then, she leapt back on to her bed, opened the notebook, and started translating. It didn't take long, Blossom only fumbling when she had to type accented letters. Within minutes, she had written a rough translation, re-wording some of the funnier phrases. When finished, she read it to herself.

"_Dear Blossom, _

_ How the hell am I supposed to read your notebook when it's written in CHINESE? All I wanted to do was read your inner thoughts and dirty secrets. Would've come in handy someday, you know? Oh well. Here it is. You should try to be more careful about your things in the future. _

_Guerelli's doing well and everything's settled. The Queen is in prison, and from what I hear, all those guys we pounded are not happy to hear she's alive. Heh… I also got promoted, which means I won't be back for a while. I figured I'd let you know. I would've called, but I seem to not have your number. We should fix this somehow, say… dinner. In my city. 8 PM. Tonight. Meet me at Buckingham. (You know, that fountain where we beat the shit out of Princess? Remember?) We'll eat, exchange numbers, and maybe you can spill some of those secrets I didn't get to read from this notebook. And don't be too overdressed – you won't need it, especially if things go as planned. _

_See you tonight, then. Don't be late. We have reservations at 8:15, and I expect you to be punctual as usual. And so help me God, if you're wearing pants… _

_Sincerely, _

_Brick_

_PS – Like the roses? Red and pink. Aren't I fucking clever?_"

"Yeah, I guess you are," Blossom said, smiling. She ripped out her translated page, tossing it into the garbage bin. She looked back at the message, her finger gliding over the signature. She laughed. Maybe things weren't really that normal. This was certainly a new development…

Blossom looked at the closet, still open and over-flowing with stuff. Right away, she spotted the one piece of garment every woman should have in her wardrobe: her little black dress. She had worn it only once or twice in college, and it was always just for a night out with friends. It's not like she ever went on dates or anything. She wondered if it would still fit a year or two later. It should. Then another thought drifted through her head.

Even wearing that dress, she'd still be too overdressed, wouldn't she?

**The End**


End file.
